Chapter Three:Between Dream And Death
1248 Words
Astrid
I sleep on a tree branch as if I don’t have a care in the world while Arial is yapping about why she’s glad that she at least ended up in this death game with Averon and me.
Averon is standing on top of the tree looking serious. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I don’t care.
“Averon! What are you doing up there? Can I come too?” Arial looks up at Averon.
“Let’s go somewhere else,” Averon says as he climbs down. He looks blank, as usual. But I’m sure no one could guess what is going on in his mind.
“Okay, but where?” Arial looks puzzled with his suggestion.
“South” Averon states simply.
“Okay, but we have to get her to move first,” Arial giggles as she points at me, sleeping leisurely on a branch.
“You have a point,” Averon looks up at me.
“She won’t come when she’s like that,” Arial jokes.
“She’ll come at her own time,” Averon looks around for something.
He searches the area, kicking stones around. What is he doing?
He finally picks up a stone with sharp edges and carves something on the bark of the tree I’m sleeping on.
“Go south when you wake up,” Arial reads when Averon is done.
“Okay, let’s head south. There are traces of mana signatures in that direction. Let’s observe them from a distance until we figure out their motive and our next move,” Averon says while looking at the basic mana signature detector Arial gave him.
Arial is in the Alchemy Faculty so she has a bag full of this stuff and equipment to make some more. Arial may not look like it, but she’s actually prepared for most situations. Strategy, however, isn’t her strong suit.
They head south while I continue sleeping as if we’re not trapped in a death game.
I’m having a dream.
I’m in my room at my cottage, sitting on my bed.
“Oh, I’m dreaming. I should at least see Gramps.” I stand up from my bed and walk downstairs.
I see a familiar figure sipping black tea. I know immediately who it is.
“Gramps?” I sit opposite him.
“Astrid! How’re you doing? Are you making friends like you promised?” He asks as he sets his cup down.
“I don’t know,” I answer, not sure if I am.
“You will, at your own pace,” he assures, taking another sip of his tea.
“What about the other thing I asked you to promise? I told you not to kill anyone. Are you going to keep your promise?” he looks at me deeply, probably too deep.
I look back at him. His eyes are different. Not the warm gaze I remember from before he died.
It’s threatening.
Tense.
“Answer me!” he screams and the next thing I see isn’t Gramps anymore.
A skeleton sits in the chair where Gramps had been just moments ago.
“You don’t want to keep your promise? My dying wish? You are an ungrateful child. After all I’ve done for you. Oh heavens, why did you give me such a grandchild? She should have died with her parents. Why did I save her that day?” he laments.
I suddenly wake up from the nightmare, breathing a bit heavily.
“That was supposed to be a nightmare. Gramps…” I float down from the branch and stretch a bit.
My eyes flicker to the message carved into the tree bark. “South?” I say, confused. Which way is south again?
***
AVERON
If I have to use just one word to describe the rich and noble, it will be unfair. I don’t think highly of them, nor do I think lowly of them. To me, nobility is not a status – just a word. But, it is a word big enough to frighten the poor.
I grew up alone with my mother. My father left my mother when I was born. She was heartbroken but had to raise me alone.
He was probably a deadbeat to have abandoned my mother so it doesn’t bother me.
When I was born, I didn’t let out a cry – not even a whimper. Even the doctor thought I had died during childbirth until she took a closer look.
There I was, soft and delicate, yet wearing a neutral expression. One still enough to make the adults in the room uneasy, as though they were not looking at a newborn but something quietly observing them.
Although my father was a noble, my mother didn’t get even a single coin from him.
She couldn’t pay for rent and was kicked out.
She slept in corners at night, covering me with the last piece of cloth she had and endured the harsh, cold nights.
She worked several jobs during the day but received little in return despite her endless devotion.
While she worked with her body slowly breaking, I just watched blankly. I never complained about eating too little nor did I show any form of worry when she dropped from overwork.
I only knew how to do one thing: observe and utilize.
And still do.
***
I walk with Arial toward the south. The afternoon sunlight filters through the leaves, and the tense, heavy air is unmistakable.
Arial’s gentle steps press lightly against the fallen leaves with a crisp crunch. I turn my head to her with a questioning gaze and her cheeks tint red.
We continue our path until, abruptly, we hear voices arguing. We walk quietly towards the sound and hide behind the trees.
We see two boys arguing surrounded by a group of students with exasperated looks hinting that they have been bickering for a while now.
The boy with messy brown hair and a yellow streak boasts, “I’m the main character so I need to lead this group into survival!”
What an i***t.
The other boy with long red hair clenches his teeth, “This is not some stupid bedtime story, Raiden!”
“Hahaha of course not! This is serious, so follow me everyone! I, Raiden, am the main character! Hahaha!” he strikes a ridiculous pose.
Wow, so there are still lunatics in the world.
The red-haired boy smacks him on the head, sending him crashing to the ground.
“i***t! Didn’t you hear what that voice said? We’re stuck here! I’d rather get cut open than follow you into oblivion!” He raged.
Raiden gets up, rubbing his head, “Suit yourself, volcano head! Let’s go guys!”
The crowd looks hesitant.
Just when someone was about to take a step forward, people suddenly jump out from the bushes.
A guy with crazy, unkempt hair, animal skins wrapped around his waist and a sharp spear steps forward, “Hehehe, seems we have some intruders. No one trespasses on our territory. Kill them all!”
They charge forward and the students prepare to run when a sound echoes through their ears.
CLING!
CRASH!
The sound of a sword clashing against metal echoes as someone crashes to the ground.
Their heads whip to the source. They see a boy with long black hair sticking out everywhere holding a large sword with a dragon hilt, towering over the leader.
Oh, I see now… Darian is here.
- Writer
