Immortal Darkness: Shadow Across the Land

by Alex Rey

  What could these symbols have possibly stood for? What language were they even written in? Just when he’d almost decided to give up, anger and frustration caused Yofel to throw his sword into the ground just beneath his feet.

  It was at this moment when Yofel began to notice his anger and impatience. At the same time, he realized something about his personality. Do I really give up that easily? The very thought of this caused him to look down upon himself.

  Calming down slightly, knelt down to his sword, wrapped his four-fingered hand around its handle, and tugged it in an attempt to take its tip out of the ground. Strangely enough, however, not even the largest tug would release the sword from the ground. Even more frustrated than before, he wrapped both hands around his blade’s hilt and gave an even stronger tug.

  Come on, already! As he continued to tug, Yofel noticed how his sword was somehow radiating heat into its metal, the heat leading up to the palms of his hands.

  The radiation in his sword only grew hotter and hotter with every passing heartbeat. The heat from his sword sizzling his hands, he pulled himself away and took two steps back from his sword. The result of him doing so caused his sword to make a slight tilt in the earth underneath.

  Yofel took a look down at his sword and wondered, What’s going on with it? Looking closely, he noticed how the heat it had generated caused a red tinge to form near its tip. It was at this moment when he realized the red of the sword disappearing at a faster pace than it had grown.

  Once again, Yofel asked himself, What’s going on? just before walking up to his sword once again. Is somebody playing a joke on me? Or am I just going insane?

  His hands wrapped around the hilt, Yofel was thankful to feel absolutely no heat burning any more of his skin. When he took a yank at the sword this time, it came out nice and smoothly, leaving a small hole in the ground. To his confusion, the very tip of the sword still held a red-orange color to it.

  Is there something down there? Yofel took a closer look at the hole he had just seeped into the ground. He could just barely make out a whisk of steam fuming its way out of something. Coming up with an idea, Yofel decided to stick his sword into the ground and twist it to the point where he could no longer see any steam coming out of the ground.

  Through trial and error did Yofel twist his sword—waiting for any traces of steam to show themselves. He eventually brought himself up to a point where his blade stood parallel to the temple and would not twist its way in either direction. While he thought pulling it out of the ground would have solved his problem, fear of the underground steam blowing his face haunted his mind.

  The fear of being burned by steam brought the fear of him being stuck in one spot. The fear of being stuck in one spot brought the fear of never making his way into the temple. The fear of never making his way into the temple brought the fear of dying along with his home. What’ll I do?

  It was at this point when Yofel realized, If I can’t twist it, maybe I can slide it. Because the sword wouldn’t twist in any direction and was parallel to the wall, he figured the temple must have been trying to tell him something. In an attempt to prove this theory, he decided to draw his sword closer and closer to the riddle on the left side of the temple.

  He continued to draw his blade closer and closer to the riddle—hoping to discover something about the temple. At the same time did he hope with every being in his body for safety along the way. Taken by surprise, the tip of his sword pushed into what felt like an underground piece of the temple, and a wall of leaping blue flames sprung out from underneath the ground and caused a shock to run through his blood.

  The leaping flames seemed to form a crevice from the temple’s wall to Yofel’s sword. What came as a surprise to him was how—at the same time—the hieroglyphic riddles to the left of the temple disappeared. How so was done was by an apparent flip of a tile the hieroglyphic had been printed onto.

  I solved one of the riddles? Yofel wondered. But what about the other one?

  It was at this moment when Yofel noticed how the flames in front of him didn’t seem to give off any traces of heat. Curious to know what was going on with this fire, he crept his arm closer and closer to the flames—hoping the worst wasn’t to happen. Please don’t burn me; I’m sick of getting burned!

  Just as he had hoped, the wall of flames didn’t scathe his hand at all. Rather than burn, the flame soothed the cracks and scratches his hand had undergone. Such a soothing sensation made him wonder if the people of Tyko were wizards.

  Why did my sword burn me earlier—but the fire isn’t? he asked himself. This thought dared to challenge all the rules he had once known about fire. Never before had he seen something with a soothing touch radiate through metal and give it a burning feel. Its piercing-blue figure stared into his eyes, begging for a friend.

  An idea began to form in Yofel’s head at this moment. He took a quick glance at the doors’ inscription and looked back down at his flame-covered sword. Can I fit my sword in there?

  Not a single speck of fear came unto Yofel’s mind when his hand gripped around the hilt of his sword. The sword held a glowing blue look to its blade. At the same time did a cloud of steam followed his removal of the sword from the ground, making a quick shiver run down his spine.

  It was at this moment when Yofel locked his eyes on the doors’ indentation. Such a sight was nothing more than an invitation for him—and the party on the other side grew anxious for his coming. Not a single flinch came unto Yofel’s arm when he implanted his glowing sword into the doors’ indentation. As if by magic, the glow this sword once held now made an abrupt disappearance upon making its way into the hole.

  A moment of silence penetrated his ears; what could have been going on? Silence was quickly replaced by a small click; this small click was followed by a loud bang—emanating from the inside of the temple.

  Another moment of silence came into play before Yofel decided to pull out his sword from the doors. The result of doing so allowed these doors to separate and create a clear entrance into the temple. He backed away from the open for a moment—making sure the coast was clear—and with a sigh of relief he sauntered his way in.

  At first Yofel was only able to make out pitch darkness. Is there any light in here? Such a question was drawn away from his mind when he slammed into a wall, his nose pressing up against a cold, flat surface. Ow! What’s going on here? he asked himself while rubbing his sore nose.

  Now a total of two questions ran through Yofel’s mind—none of which he’d expected to answer anytime soon. With only a heartbeat to think about why any of these events were happening, he took notice of a peculiar scent overwhelming his bruised nose.

  This foreign scent seemed to grow worse and worse within time. The increase in the scent continued until Yofel noticed something wrong with his blade.

  Unsure whether or not the new scent had anything to do with his blade, Yofel took a glance over to his blade and noticed how his blade glowed with a vibrant blue flame attached to it once again. How did this come back? he wondered with a spark of confusion blowing his mind away.

  While completely and utterly confused by this occurrence, the flame his sword emanated gave a bright enough light to liven up the inside of the entire temple. Oh—I get it! he thought while wrinkling his nose. That smell is causing this!

  Despite having been earlier flabbergasted by the temple’s inside scent, Yofel brought himself out of a small trance before actually taking any notice of the area around him. The images before him brought a hint of wonder to flare up in his mind.

  A damp, dark area surrounded the Easi—full of nothing but slippery walls and a slightly wet floor, all of which was made from stone. Upon realizing this place’s wet atmosphere, Yofel allowed a speck of caution to enter his mind. One foul move could spell an injury—or even death, for that matter.

  Wonder was brought up to Yofel’s mind when a cage-like door with a lock stood in front of his gaze. Such was strange to see after finding nothing
else but wet stone. Turning around, he noticed two floor-based levers—both of which sat left and right of the door—and another riddle on the wall, this riddle slightly shorter than the last two he’d come in contact with.

  After seeing this strange puzzle, Yofel turned his head toward a lever to the left of the door. Does the riddle have anything to do with the levers? On the handle of a lever left of the door read a hieroglyphic in the form of a crescent. When he pulled this lever down, he heard a strange click spreading through the air.

  Twitching with surprise, Yofel’s ears took in the click as it echoed throughout the temple. It was at this moment when an idea popped into his head. Such an idea was put into action when he wrapped his one open hand around the opening of the door and gave it a small tug. The result was the entrance to a new area. The lever unlocked the door?

  To begin what would become a puzzling series of events, Yofel stuck his blazing sword out as far away from his body as possible. The result of doing so caused him to realize there were sixteen other levers in the room. Sitting right by his side was a third lever—and in front of him was another barred door.

  In an attempt to figure out exactly would this lever could have done, Yofel gave it a tug and took hearing of another click. He had, however, expected the door in front of him to click open. Unfortunately for him, tugging the door didn’t cause anything to happen; the door wouldn’t budge. What’s going on here?

  Scratching the back of his head, Yofel began to wonder exactly why the lever caused a click without unlocking the door in front of him. It was at this moment, however, when an idea lit up in his mind: What about that other lever?

  A rush coming to his feet, Yofel backed up to the two levers at the start of the maze. Taking a look to the right, he took notice of the one lever he hadn’t pulled. “Hmm—” he mumbled. His left hand holding his glowing sword, and his right hand gripping onto the lever, Yofel pulled his right hand as far toward him as possible.

  And what happens when I pull this lever back to where it was? Glinting in his eyes was a spark of jubilance; jubilance, however, was followed by disappointment. Pulling the lever—rather than open a new opportunity—locked the door to the room Yofel had just exited. As a result, he pulled the lever back to where it was before. What happens if I pull that other lever back to where it was? This thought in mind, Yofel stepped back up into the room with the third lever and pulled the lever back to where it was originally.

  The result in pulling this lever caused an enormous aura of lights to suddenly flicker throughout the entire room. The result in this display allowed him to see exactly where he was. As a result, he put his sword back into his scabbard.

  Standing in front of Yofel was a maze made up of an enormous series of bars, levers, and locked doors. Oh no, he murmured with a sense of disappointment knocking on his head.

  This isn’t going to be good, Yofel noted. How long is this going to take? Where am I going to go from here? These questions running through his mind, Yofel took a look at the door to the left of him and noticed it was now unlocked. I hate puzzles!

  For an undetermined amount of time did the young Easi trot in, out, and about the puzzling area. Through trial and error did he confront his faceless opponent—pulling levers, pushing levers, growing more and more frustrated with every motion he made.

  He wasn’t sure how long it had taken; he wasn’t even sure if he were at the end. Someone please make this come to an end! All this changed when Yofel opened the maze’s final barred door and made his way into a dimly-lit room. Freedom brushed past his fingertips, making him feel weightless as joy carried him onward.

  Upon opening the door, Yofel felt a rush of ancient air brush past his face. This sensation blowing throughout the room, a storm of questions blazed through his mind. How long ago was this temple built, and why hasn’t anybody been able to come inside until now? Did a lost ancient civilization create this place long ago without passing on their history to the rest of Eas? If that’s the case, was it really Tyko who made this temple?

  Nevertheless, Yofel silently counted to himself, Three—two—one. Just after silently counting, his eyes took sight of a long wall of the ancient writings. These hieroglyphics stuck out on a stand; on top of the stand was what he’d hoped was the treasure he’d been looking for. Such a treasure was a stout, royal-blue blade.

  Yofel’s eyes flashed with success as his heart took a leap up to the bottom of his throat. Is it really that easy? he suddenly hesitated, forgetting how well Tyko was at making traps. What if something shows up and—as Baphonsey said—crush every bone in my body?

  With an outstretched arm, Yofel prepared to curl his three fingers and one thumb around the immortality blade. His spine tingling, his fingers twitching, and his heart pounding, Yofel felt every heartbeat as precious as the time he’d spent as a child.

  However, before the skin of his fingers could have taken a single touch of the blade, a loud blast vibrated in his ears. Hearing the blast best in his right ear, he turned his head in that direction—only to see a large cloud of dust masking over what he believed to be a creature of some sort.

  Pulling out his still-glowing sword in front of his face, Yofel waited for whatever it was which caused the cloud of dust to make its appearance. Within a heartbeat, his eyes caught the sight of a creature of monumental proportions.

  The creature was red in appearance, with two large arms—each holding four fingers that had been tipped off with sharp, yellow nails. This creature’s head was given two pointed ears, a pair of rather small yet bright-red eyes, and a mouth of many sharp teeth. Judging by this creature’s ears, this was a male.

  Just below the creature’s waistline was a set of eight, arachnidan legs pushing him up from the ground. Behind his legs was a giant, curled tail—a tail the size of Yofel. And at the tip of this tail was a bowl of venom. Poisonous to the touch, this creature was known to all of the Easi as a scorpan.

  The creature made a deafening roar just before driving his venomous tail into the ground. Fortunately for the frightened Easi, Yofel was able to evade out of the way before the tail’s venom had any chance to spread into his blood. As he ran for cover, he noticed how the scorpan could not seem to pull out his tail from the spot where from which Yofel had just fled.

  With a quick tug of his tail, the scorpan noticed a large chunk of earth continuing to hang onto the tip of his tail. Taking sight of Yofel, he swung his tail in a throwing motion, causing the rock to fly towards the littl Easi. With another quick evasion, however, the rock crashed into one of the temple’s walls.

  Panting, Yofel sprinted over toward a wall just behind the scorpan. Noticing Yofel’s futile attempt at escape, the scorpan crawled up to him with his skinny, thorny legs. Once he came to a corner of the room, Yofel asked himself, Why didn’t I pick up the immortality blade when I had the chance? Had he done so, this scorpan wouldn’t have been any problem at all!

  In the midst of his thoughts, Yofel noticed the scorpan standing directly in front of him—his red eyes blazing, his legs squatting in preparation for snatching Yofel up in his throat. His heart beating with terror and anger toward himself, Yofel took notice of the scorpan’s chest. Just as he had feared: this creature’s torso was expanding with air. This could have meant only one thing.

  Yofel had two choices: either his body would become one with flame or his sword would. I have to think fast! In the blink of an eye, a stream of flame skyrocketed its way through the scorpan’s maw.

  Just in time, Yofel was able to lock his sword in a position to where he could use it as a shield to protect himself from the blazing flames. Heat radiated into his hands as Yofel found himself dropping his sword—making sure to hop away from the melted metal. Before he knew it, Yofel was looking down at the ground, his sword now a steaming soup of liquid metal.

  Thankfully for Yofel, the thought of his totalled sword soon became a thing of the past. Before the scorpan could the tiniest step forward, Yofel hopped over his sword and slid
beneath the scorpan—up to the blade of immortality.

  Upon making his way to the blade he had so desired, Yofel wrapped his fingers around its hilt. This is it. The very feel of the blade caused victory to surge through his veins. His heart helping to spread this feeling through his body, Yofel felt himself coming closer and closer to true happiness. This was even better than the time he’d spent as a child; it was as if he were doomed to eternal peace and prosperity.

  “Finally,” Yofel whispered to himself, eyes locked on the blade. At the same time was no attention “I have the blade of immortality.” Holding the fat, blue blade by its hilt, he touched one of his fingers to its tip and allowed its metal to place a cut into his skin. A drop of blood stained a sword as an even greater surge of energy became ever-present. To him this jolt of energy felt as powerful as diving into a recently thawed-out pool.

  Taking sight of the angered scorpan rushing toward him, Yofel took his blade and immediately thrust it forward. It had taken a leap of faith to point this blade toward the scorpan’s stomach. What if the blade’s compounds caused the scorpan to become immortal, too? Is that really how the blade works?

  Before he could have backed away from the scorpan, an enormous shock spread through Yofel’s blade and up to his shoulder. Opening his eyes, Yofel wondered whose death he had just drawn out: the scorpan’s or his own?

  Relief washed over Yofel’s gaze when he took notice of the scorpan’s state. Limp and nonbreathing did the horrid creature lay there. Within heartbeats, however, relief would turn to fear—as an ingenuous look surpassed the scorpan’s eyes. Such a sight made Yofel feel as if he had done something terribly wrong. Should I have killed him?

  Such a question remained until he bent down over the scorpan, his blade tight in hand. Disgust in himself formed in Yofel’s stomach as he watched the scorpan bathe himself in a pool of blood. Bending over toward the deceased creature, he asked himself, What’s going on?