“Enough, Pnalla! Get a hold of yourself!” Tatchum yelled down into the volatile mess of water that was, but a moment prior, a peaceful lakefront.

  But no matter what he said, she simply wouldn’t listen, heart torn asunder in more ways than one. When he’d finally finished the last of his work and returned to the lake, maybe only an hour or so after Trenton’s group entered, he found it like this, the island completely submerged, Trenton nowhere to be seen, and the waters in agonizing toil. He’d even found Millie standing before it quivering alone, arms clutching her body as a fit of sobs overtook her, not a single spirit willing to even so much as approach her.

  All around them, the gathered spirits muttered among themselves, faces twisted with wrath. They whispered slurs amongst themselves, yes-manning each other back into their old cycle of hatred. All the work he’d done, completely for nothing. Tatchum’s entire mission here had been to try and rekindle long lost human spirit relations, and now it was all completely thrown out the window because what? Era entered uninvited?

  Maria wrapped her arms around Millie, whispering sweetlings to her whilst glaring at the waters with the most pure vitriol Tatchum had ever seen. It was almost impressive, honestly, and he’d make a comment or quip about it were circumstances less dire. He needed to figure out a way to calm down Pnalla…somehow.

  Just then, in the center of the lake, a massive white spatial sphere suddenly burst into existence, extending from lakebed to surface, pushing back the waters and creating an impenetrable barrier they could not pass. They swirled with even greater tempo at this sudden intrusion, but no matter how the waters raged, they didn’t even so much as scratch the barrier.

  Slowly, the sphere rose into the air. At its center was Era, surrounded by Trenoton’s group. They looked horribly injured and maimed, the lot of them, yet still breathing, much to Tatchum’s relief. He’d heard of the guardian of the vault, but hadn’t realized how deadly it was until just a little bit ago talking with some of the older spirits of the Dwelling.

  The world twisted and turned, and just like that, Era stood next to Tatchum facing the lake, spatial magic just like his own. Behind them, Trenton meticulously set down his companions, ensuring they were comfortable on the ground as Millie and Maria rushed to his side. Maria knelt over Karfice, a tentative smile returning to her face. Millie rushed to Trenton’s arm, snuggling herself into his embrace. But Trenton…well he just sat there…staring, his eyes hollow–empty.

  It was as if all the warmth and light within Trenton that Tatchum had seen just an hour prior simply vanished, gone in an instant. His arm loosely wrapped around Millie, absentmindedly, robotically, stroking her hair. Something had happened in there, but whatever it was, Trenton didn’t seem inclined to share.

  “YOU HAVE VIOLATED OUR SACRED REALM, ERA YILLDON. YOU WILL NOT LEAVE HERE ALIVE,” a cacophony of voices cried from the lake, every single droplet rallying together.

  One colossal hand rose of pure water soared from the lake, slamming into the ground to their side, then another, then another, then another. No longer did Pnalla resemble the peaceful blue woman of before. Now her body was a mess of twisting cyclones, the water muddy and dark.

  “You opened the vault to a hoard of children. I’ve half the mind to kill you myself. A millennia I gave you peace and sanctum, protected this location from outside dwellers and ensured none would dare attempt siege, and this is how you repay me? Kill innocent young simply because of the FLESH THEY BEAR!? IS YOUR HEART TRULY SO VILE!? PNALLA!?” Era returned, stepping forward, his entire body shining with brilliant white light.

  Wow, it really couldn’t have been worse. They’d be lucky to avoid a full on race war by sunset…another full on race war.

  Tatchum kneeled down next to Trenton, whispering in his ear, “I don’t know what happened in there, but you can’t stay here. I’ll need to remain here if we’ve any hope of stopping them from killing each other, so I won’t be with you for some time. I’m sending you to the outskirts of the island, do your best to make your way in. I’ll get back as soon as I possibly can. Good luck and Godspeed.”

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  Trenton did not react, or show any sign he’d heard at all, but given the growing roar behind him, Tatchum didn’t have the time to empathize. He placed his hand on Trenton, finding that familiar feeling deep within his heart, that thrumming from the island's core surging through his veins, and in an instant, the boy and his friends were gone, off to new adventures…alone once again.

  ***

  The first thing Trenton saw were the trees, lush and green, almost certainly in full bloom despite how early it was in the season yet. They were of a variety he’d never seen before, wide thick branches holding themself aloft far from the base of the tree, the forest line forming a solid wall some couple dozen feet before him.

  A pleasant summer breeze wafted through the air, slicking away the little droplets of sweat clinging to his brow. From somewhere off in the distance, a lone bird chirped, calling, calling, calling…but never receiving a response.

  Behind him, the plush grasses curved over a swift ledge, suddenly cutting off as the ground dropped into a sea of endless white far below. It was a peculiar sight, seeing the clouds from above instead of below. Many months ago, Trenton never would’ve dreamed he’d make it this far, and now…he almost wished he hadn’t.

  Trenton slowly lowered himself to a seated position at the ledge, legs dangling over the great abyss. He watched the slowly rolling tide of clouds whither wend, mind and heart infected with a bitter, acrid bile. Day by day, he’d pressed every little feeling into a ball of irreproachable steel. No matter what he’d felt, no matter the agony afflicting his mind and body, he rose every morning, the only thought on his mind the next step they should take–the surest path to safety.

  Others he’d watched ripped to nothing, sure, and although their deaths did not please him, the pain at least would pass him by in time. As long as those he cared for most lived on, as long as his dearest clung close, it would be alright. Somehow, it would all be alright. As long as he could wake up and see her smile, weary may it be, the world would turn again. But now…

  When first they met, whenever he looked in her eyes, all he could see was Staria. It was a miracle, like she’d suddenly popped back to life as if nothing had happened at all. And for a time, that was enough. He could delude himself, pretend everything was alright again, pretend he could be happy again.

  But no matter how hard he tried, he simply couldn’t let himself love again; he couldn’t let himself love her again…because the fear never did leave him, the fear that she’d leave him again. For a time, he kept her away, focused on planning, fighting, hunting, whatever else he could muster to distract his mind from her. But his will faltered, just as he knew it would, just as she knew it would. He made the mistake he told himself he never would. He let himself love again.

  A sharp smart from Trenton’s hands suddenly drew him back from his musings. Unwittingly, whilst lost amidst his own self pity, Trenton’s had begun squeezing his remaining hand tighter and tighter until a thick trickle of blood burst forth. The red river flowed down his hand, caressing its many curves and slowly dripping into the sea of white below.

  Blood…how much had he spilt in this war? Tens? Hundreds? He couldn’t even remember anymore, couldn’t even remember when he stopped counting–when he stopped caring. He must have been practically drowning in mortal water now, drowning beneath the weight of his own sins…maybe the kids at the Academy were right. Maybe this was all his fault. Maybe the world really would be better off without him.

  If Kiva had never met him, she never would’ve been caught up in any of this. She would’ve lived the rest of her days happy and free. But instead, she had to follow Trenton; she had to trust him; she had to believe in his strength. And when she’d needed him most, he failed her. He was weak. Weak. Weak. WEAK.

  Trenton squeezed harder, more blood–practically a stream now–pouring from the torn flesh of his palm. He deserved this pain; he deserved to suffer, just as she had. If he was just stronger he could’ve done something. He could’ve made a difference. He wouldn’t be running, tail tucked between his legs, across the entire continent, hoping and praying to whatever god would listen that he would live to see tomorrow! Gods, it really was all about him, wasn’t it!

  Pathetic. Somewhere along the way he’d lost himself, and he hadn’t even noticed. Trenton…what a vile name. Even the thought of it made his blood burn, then boil, then explode. He simply couldn’t bear it any longer. He hated himself. He hated the world. But above all, he hated them: the Veil, the Bloody, the Chosen.

  He was done running, absolutely sick of it. He simply wouldn’t allow himself to fail any longer. If he wanted to make a difference, then it was about time he stopped hiding from what he really was. That strength, that power, it was his and his alone to command. And it would yield to him.

  “I’ll kill you…all of you,” he muttered to himself, hatred filling his heart.