Everflame: The Complete Series

by Dylan Lee Peters

  “I can’t go in there. Don’t make me go in there.”

  “What is this place?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t remember, but I’ve been here before.” Iolana began to whimper. “I can’t go up there.” Iolana wrapped her arms around herself and continued to shake.

  The Messenger tried to put a hand upon Iolana’s shoulder but she jumped away from him like a beaten animal.

  “I’m going up there,” he said. “I need to know what this place is.”

  The Messenger turned from Iolana and entered the tower. A spiral staircase traced upward along the inner wall of the tower. The Messenger looked up. The tower seemed vacated, no noise, no movement. He began to climb the stairs when something suddenly bumped him in the back. The Messenger spun wildly, hand raised, ready to attack. Iolana looked up at him, wide-eyed, but shaking a bit less.

  “Don’t leave me alone. We should leave. Please, Murray. Let’s leave this place.”

  The Messenger shook his head and turned to continue climbing the stairs. Iolana didn’t dare to stay alone, so she reluctantly followed. Strange paintings adorned the walls. Each of them lacerated and singed so that the images were not easily discernable. Odd characters could be made out here and there as if the paintings were signed in a forgotten, ancient language.

  Each step Iolana took, she became a little less terrified, though she could not help feeling as if she were in a dream that was about to go bad. She had been here before, she knew it. Iolana shivered in her still-wet clothes.

  The two trespassers continued to climb the stairs. It was amazing how the tower’s structure seemed to be preserved when the rest of the ruins were in utter shambles. The Messenger wondered if it were coincidence or if the tower held some purpose.

  A loud clang came from the bottom of the stairs where they had entered the tower.

  “What was that?” asked Iolana.

  “Be still,” the Messenger warned.

  They remained motionless for a minute, waiting in anticipation, but nothing else happened.

  “Wind must have knocked something over,” said Iolana.

  “What wind?” replied the Messenger.

  Again they walked up the staircase. They were getting closer to the top of the tower and the anticipation was building in the Messenger. Iolana’s demeanor had triggered something inside of him. He was on the hunt and though he did not know what it was he hunted, he knew he would find something. They passed a mirror upon the staircase and something caught Iolana’s eye. She turned toward the mirror and saw gleaming, red eyes staring back at her from the other side of the tower. She spun quickly and the room was empty. She looked back at the mirror and saw nothing other than herself. Iolana said nothing to the Messenger. She told herself that she was just seeing things; that it was just her imagination. They continued to walk.

  “This is a mistake,” worried Iolana.

  They were nearing the top of the tower now. The windows showered moonlight over the walls that seemed to sparkle, more and more, as they climbed higher and higher. It was as if the walls were made with jewels or the very stars themselves. Finally, they reached the top landing and found the door to a large chamber, completely ajar. Tentatively, they entered the room.

  It was devastation. Furniture was broken apart and scattered shards of ancient vases were splayed across the floor, paintings were torn and scorched, nothing had been saved. The ceiling was at least twenty feet high and it looked as though the entire room had been lifted to the ceiling and then dropped. It was impossible to tell what had happened or what purpose this room might have held.

  “Do you have any memories of this?”

  The Messenger looked at Iolana as she looked around the room.

  “No,” she replied.

  The Messenger began to walk around the room, looking at all of the debris on the floor. Iolana followed suit. Something caught the Messenger’s eye from under what looked like a broken chair. He stooped down and moved the broken wood aside to find a sword of pure white, lying underneath. It was long and slender and it glowed under the moonlight. It looked as if it had been carved from the bones of some massive creature. Five characters were etched upon the hilt of the sword. They were written in a language that the Messenger didn’t recognize, the same language that seemed to be on some of the torn paintings. Just feet away he found a holster for the sword and he decided to attach it to his belt. He turned around, scanning the room for Iolana, and found her on the other side of the large room, holding what looked like a book with some sort of clasp.

  Iolana dusted the cover of the book and then gasped as the book fell from her hands. The Messenger quickly made his way over to her.

  “What?” he said. “What is it?” The Messenger reached down and picked up the book. He looked at the cover and saw what had startled Iolana. Etched in the leather upon the front of the book, in amazing detail, was the portrait of a woman that was the spitting image of Iolana. “This woman looks just like you.”

  “I never thought two people could look that similar, but when I looked at that, I felt like I was looking in the mirror. But, you don’t think…” Iolana ripped the book out of the Messenger’s hand and opened it to a random page. “I mean, I’ve been saying this place seemed familiar to me, but I didn’t know why. Is it possible that this is mine.” She scanned the page of what looked like a journal entry and there was a name written at the bottom. “No, I guess not,” she added. “This looks like the journal of a woman named Chera.”

  The Messenger stood wide-eyed, waiting for Iolana to be flooded with memory. Iolana tucked the book away in her pack for later perusal and looked back at the Messenger blankly. She has no idea, he thought to himself. She doesn’t remember a thing.

  “We should leave this place,” said the Messenger. “I’m starting to agree with you.” he looked down at his sword. “This place might be dangerous.” He looked back up at Iolana and found her again, shivering. Her eyes were wide with the fear that had gripped her before they entered the tower. “What’s wrong?”

  Iolana remained speechless and the Messenger noticed that she was looking directly over his shoulder. He slowly turned around to find a black creature staring at them through blazing, red eyes from across the room. The grotesque thing stood on two legs like a man, but that was the only attribute it had that might confuse it for a human. It had four arms that looked more like they belonged to an insect and in the middle of its chest was a large, razor-toothed mouth. It dripped thick saliva from its tongue as it growled at them.

  The Messenger opened his palm and bathed the fell thing in blue light, but it did not affect the creature in any way. Instead, the creature began to move toward them, tracing its black tongue across its black lips as if it were preparing for a meal. The Messenger drew his recently discovered sword, and prepared for battle. When the beast saw the sword, it stopped advancing and fell silent.

  “Get behind me and move toward the door,” said the Messenger. Iolana did as she was told and they slowly made their way backward, toward the exit. The grotesque beast made no attempt to follow; it just stared at them with its vibrant, red eyes.

  Iolana and the Messenger backed their way down the entire staircase in anticipation of the creature chasing after them, but it never did. As soon as they exited the tower they turned and ran until the darkness left the sky and their legs gave way beneath them.

  Chapter 10: The Gate

  How could he have let them out?

  Tenturo flew up through the atmosphere, higher and higher he climbed, all while the treacherous beast writhed in the grips of his talons. It shrieked and thrashed, but the creature was no match for the grip of the ancient griffin.

  He could not possibly be powerful enough to free them. I had always thought that the two beasts he used to corner me in the White Mountains were something different. I should have known. Farsiders. But how?

  Tenturo beat his wings and broke free from the world and into the void of outer space. The dark abominat
ion gave one final whimper and surrendered, it knew it was defeated, it accepted its end. Effortlessly, Tenturo flicked the creature toward the sun. It had no energy to change its course. Tenturo watched as the beast became smaller and smaller and then, in a tiny, yellow flash, it was consumed by the massive star. He thought back to what seemed like eons ago. How many times had he done this? They had found no other way of killing these things.

  I have to go to the gate, he thought. I have to know.

  Tenturo turned and found the moon in his sight. Then pushed himself toward it with his mighty wings. It had been so long since he had been to the moon. The day they closed the gate was, in fact, the last time. I just don’t understand how it could have been opened. Tenturo’s mind flashed scenes of that day.

  Densa had finally succumbed to their pleas and agreed to stop creating the Farsiders. The four Ancients, Tenturo, Chera, Densa and Bahknar had gathered in Densa’s palace on the far side of the moon. They created a chamber in the furthest depths of Densa’s palace. A chamber that opened into the core of the moon, a place where they thought they could lock away the Farsiders forever. Densa was the only one who could control them, but he thought they might revolt if he tried to destroy them. So Densa led them into the chamber at the core of the moon and then the Ancients locked the gate. They fortified the gate in such a way that none of them could reopen the gate on their own. The gate would require the strength of at least two of them, if not more.

  The Great Tyrant is powerful, thought Tenturo, but not powerful enough to open the gate alone.

  Tenturo landed softly upon the surface of the moon. It was difficult to see where he was and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust in the darkness. After a moment, he began to scan his surroundings and gain his bearings, and it was not long before he saw it. Densa’s palace, a monument of dust and stone protruding out from the moon like a giant spike, but however large the spike, the palace reached further down into the moon’s depths.

  Tenturo held onto the foolish hope that the gate was still closed and that the Farsiders he had seen on earth were merely stragglers that had been unaccounted for. He pushed open the palace door and it silently swung inward. It had been so long since Tenturo had entered this place, but he remembered it well. He placed his large claw upon a metal bump, carved into the floor, triggering the mechanism that would send light through the entire palace. The Ancients had designed the mechanism to work off of their energy, and the light it gave would mirror the characteristics of the one giving the energy. Cool, blue light illuminated the palace walls as if they were made from luminescent crystal. It shimmered and sparkled in the way only design of the Ancients could.

  There were two large staircases that led to the upper levels of the palace. Behind those was one staircase, positioned in the back of the main chamber. This staircase led down into the bowels of the palace and also led to the moon’s core. Tenturo scanned the room, remembering to keep his wits about him. If the gate had been opened, there could be any number of Farsiders roaming the palace. A quick escape might be necessary. A chill ran through Tenturo’s wings. He shook it off and proceeded to the back of the chamber and then began his descent down the stairs.

  As the stairway went downward, different hallways broke off to each side. Tenturo stopped and looked down each one as he passed it. He couldn’t afford to let any of the Farsiders get behind him. He could handle one, but two or even more… He didn’t want to think about it. Tenturo’s nerves were beginning to fill him with unease.

  Three of us couldn’t stop the Farsiders from wreaking havoc upon the earth last time. How long will I be able to do it alone?

  The palace could feel the change in Tenturo’s mood. Hues of violet and magenta began to creep their way through the fields of translucent blue like a virus. The closer Tenturo got to the gate, the more the walls seemed to dim. It was like they were working against him. The more nervous he became, the more the walls reflected it, and seeing his own insecurities reflected in the walls only caused him to be further shaken.

  What is happening to me?

  Tenturo thought he saw something from the corner of his eye. He jerked his head to the side and his heart shot into his throat. Nothing was there. Tenturo began to hear whispers from down the hallways. He tried to tell himself it was just his imagination, but they were growing louder.

  This is ridiculous. The gate will be closed. There is nothing to fear.

  He tried desperately to convince himself, but he was beginning to shake. The gate was drawing ever closer with every step he took, all while the color of the walls grew warmer and deeper. After what seemed like ages, he reached the bottom of the stairs. He knew as soon as he turned to his right the gate would be within sight, open or closed. He couldn’t bring himself to look at it.

  What’s wrong with you? he chided himself. Tenturo knew why he was so afraid, he just didn’t want to admit it to himself. It would take two great beings to open the gate. The Great Tyrant was obviously the first, but the other…

  Tenturo swung his head toward the right and stared down the hallway. The doors to the gate were wide open. The cold blackness they revealed burned at his retinas like the sun. The walls went blood red, and Tenturo went into panic.

  I have to get out of here.

  He turned and ran up the stairs as fast as he could. His world had gone red as the alarms were going off in his mind.

  Two to open the gate, he thought, can only mean one thing. Tenturo burst forth from the palace doors and launched himself off of the moon, back toward earth. Densa has returned to power… and to the darkness.

  Chapter 11: A Fallen Beast

  Autumnbreeze awoke from another dream and wondered, am I going mad? It had been the same dream ever since that night in front of the Everflame, a reoccurrence of longing and loss. Whiteclaw was always there, waiting for her, and he always left her with the same words. Find the white mouse.

  Autumnbreeze had returned that night from the tower and apologized to Goldenheart. Goldie had taken her apology with little resistance; after all, they were all each other had right now. Goldenheart had helped Autumn to realize that. It was slowly helping to improve her spirits and her hope for the future. Goldenheart had a way of maintaining a positive outlook; a way of keeping faith that all would work out. Autumnbreeze now had a firm faith that she would see her son again, but coping with the loss of Whiteclaw was still something she could not quite handle. The dreams had not stopped. How could she hope to move on when all she had to do was close her eyes to be back in his arms? How was she supposed to get on with reality when every night her deceased husband came to her with a cryptic message to find the white mouse?

  Autumn rubbed her eyes and walked into the kitchen to find Goldenheart with a cup of tea. Always an early riser was Goldenheart, a trait she had surely learned from her own husband.

  “Tea?” asked Goldie.

  “No, thank you,” answered Autumn. “I’m–I’m okay.”

  Goldenheart looked oddly at Autumnbreeze. “What’s is it? And don’t tell me nothing. I’d like to think that we’re past that point.”

  Autumn sat down at the kitchen table, across from Goldenheart, and sighed.

  “I feel stupid.”

  “You know I won’t think that. Tell me. You’ll feel better.”

  “Well, maybe I will have some tea.”

  Goldenheart stood up and began making a cup of tea as Autumn began to speak of what was bothering her.

  “I’ve been having dreams about Whiteclaw. In the dreams, it feels like he’s really back. It’s weird. I can feel him.”

  “I don’t think that’s weird at all,” replied Goldie. “I have dreams about Eveneye and Evercloud all of the time.”

  “Yes, but this is literally every time I go to sleep.”

  Goldenheart sat back down and pushed a cup of tea over to Autumnbreeze.

  “You lost the most important person in your life, Autumn. It might take a while for these dreams to stop.”

&nb
sp; “Well it’s not just the fact that I’m having the dreams that is bothering me. In the dreams, Whiteclaw is always telling me the same thing.”

  “Which is?”

  “Every dream ends with him telling me to find the white mouse.”

  “Do you think he’s talking about the white mouse that Evercloud and Riverpaw found in the forest?”

  “Oh,” said Autumn. “I had forgotten about that. How could I have forgotten about that?”

  “You’ve been through a lot,” said Goldie.

  Autumn gave a bashful smile and nodded.

  “You know, Goldie. I never told you about the conversation I had with Oaktongue in the tower the night I blew up at you.”

  “You had a conversation with Oaktongue?”

  “Yeah. I’m sorry I didn’t say something sooner. I didn’t know how to bring it up. I’m not sure we should trust him anymore.”

  “Autumn, what did he say?”

  “He had the nerve to suggest that it was Eveneye’s fault that Whiteclaw was killed. He said that Eveneye sent Whiteclaw to face the Tyrant because he couldn’t.”

  “I don’t believe him.”

  “He also suggested that it was Eveneye’s plan to send away Evercloud for the purpose of getting rid of him.”

  “Eveneye loves that boy!”

  “That’s what I told him.”

  “There’s something to this, Autumn. Did you see Even’s face before he left? Oaktongue said something to him that shook him. I think Oaktongue is up to something.”

  “What can we do?”

  “We need to talk to Firerock. There’s no doubt Oaktongue’s been in his ear. We have to find out if we can trust Firerock, and if we can, find out what Oaktongue is up to.” Goldenheart shook her head. “I knew Even shouldn’t have left. Those who seek power for themselves always take their opportunities in the absence of the King. Eveneye never did pay attention to his history lessons.”

  “Well, let’s have some breakfast and then we’ll go speak with Firerock.”