by Phoebe Nix
“The. Fire. Is. Over,” Ashley enunciated, her hands cupped around her mouth.
Liz glanced at her four friends, whose voices had gone from being an exasperating cacophony to an inaudible buzz at the back of her head. Her gaze traveled back to the ship. She slowly looked upwards, marveling at how this aircraft was built. As she walked closer to it, she felt a pressure thudding in her chest, as if she were anticipating what was going to happen.
Placing both of her hands on the metal structure, she felt electricity run through her veins. It wasn’t painful or pleasurable, only slightly uncomfortable.
“This happened before!” Cameron went on. “Remember the last time we were at Steven’s, and you guys told me off for-”
“Liz!” Kristen shouted, covering her mouth in shock shortly before the three other women gasped.
“Your hair!” Ashley exclaimed.
Liz’s curls had been straightened as they slowly flailed above her head like she was floating in water. She knew her friends were speaking to her, but all she heard was muffled speech, the way one would hear noises under the surface of a pool.
With one light shove, the shuttle door opened like a castle bridge. Liz robotically took several steps back, as though unsurprised by the opening door, her hair falling back to her shoulders.
The flickering blue light grew brighter, with a redundant beeping and radio noise coming from the inside. The four girls watched Liz, who had not blinked once since she had her fingers stretched on the shuttle, slowly stepping inside like she knew exactly where she was going. She looked like she was sleepwalking, refusing to respond to any of the women as they called out for her.
But Liz was not hypnotized, and her mind was not being controlled. She felt a peculiar sense of familiarity that seemed to call for her. It was nothing she could physically hear, but the thudding in her chest grew the moment she stepped inside the shuttle.
“Wait!” Kristen said, following Liz’s lead. The three other women exchanged perplexed glances before catching up.
“Whoa,” Kristen exclaimed, her mouth wide open as she scanned her surroundings. She began turning around in circles.
The shuttle was pitch black on the inside, lined with dark blue light bright enough for them to see where they were stepping. The single-round wall of the ship was lined with a control board and screens that flickered in different-colored lights. Liz did not pay attention to all the technology. Her eyes were fixed on what looked like the pilot. Surely, he had perished in the crash, but that was not what caught her attention.
The pilot was certainly anything but human.
“What the hell is that?” Cameron said, pointing to the pilot seat, where a furry creature sat, unconscious. Its face was on the control board with its hands hanging next to its sides.
Liz felt like she was nailed to the ground. All she could do was gaze at the pilot. She wanted to walk toward him, pulling him back to see what his face looked like, but she couldn’t seem to move. There was some sort of a delay that dug a gap between her thoughts and her actions, like her mind was floating overhead, struggling to let her body act accordingly.
Ashley was about to sprint back to safety, but the shuttle door was rising. Cameron had stumbled and fallen backward on the control board, sitting heavily on a red button.
When the beeping stopped, Liz finally came back to her senses. She swiftly turned around and witnessed the closing door.
“Everyone get out! Now!” she hollered over the sound of a deafening whirring.
Before anyone could escape, a blinding light emanated from every slit in the shuttle and every button on the control board. She was forced to close her eyes, and even then, the light seemed to pierce through her lids, burning her retinas.
Whatever Cameron had pressed had activated the cockpit. Liz heard the shuttle door press shut before anyone could run to safety.
It was the last thing Liz could remember before she blacked out.
Chapter 1
You must save this kingdom, Jerof Url’San. Or all my pains would be in vain.
The words incessantly echoed in Jerof’s head, with the image of his dying father burned before him. All he could see and hear was the King of Url. He had never imagined that the day he would be crowned would come.
Being a royal came with more burdens than luxuries.
Jerof would scarcely find time for himself, except for when he endlessly trekked the icelands of Url, seeking an answer for all his dilemmas. The people of Url were quite spiritual by nature but still Jerof would sometimes question the existence of a higher energy that answered their prayers; nonetheless he found the ritual comforting.
I have failed to unite the kingdoms of Hagran, Jerof. But I trust that you will do better.
The Prince of Url moaned as the claws of his feet dug through the snowy ground. There were too many obstacles and unfinished plans thrown at him, expecting the Prince and heir to Url to be the savior that would bring peace upon Hagran once and for all.
The fact that it required him to wed someone he had never met only made it heavier on his heart.
Surrounding Jerof were pyramids of icebergs, while beneath his feet was a thick layer of snow. Perforated rocks were sprinkled across the land here and there, in different shapes and sizes.
Jerof’s body was naturally built to endure the cold and sprint on sheets of ice with the grasp of his sharp, opposable claws. At seven feet tall, the soft brown fur covering his back, arms and legs, protected him from the elements. As he stopped to gaze his surrounding, his bright bronze bare chest shimmered under the sunlight.
The last time he had gone on a spiritual trek, he had found the answer in his dreams. This time, his doubts had washed away the last fragment of hope that he had left. The doctors couldn’t be sure, but they assured him that his father only had a few months, maybe weeks, to live, and he was compelled to act fast – or else war was going to break out. Nonetheless, it was the journey that kept him sane. Whether or not he was going to find enlightenment on the outskirts of his kingdom, he needed a clear mind to map out a sound plan to follow.
Although it was very difficult for a Hagran to feel fatigue, Jerof was exhausted. He let his weight drop, his knees sinking in the thick layer of snow. He was halfway to his favorite mountain, but the voice of his father would not stop reverberating in his head. It made him feel like it was about to explode.
It was bizarre how suddenly the only image he could see of his father was on his death bed with his graying hair and gruff voice that always broke no matter how many words he said. It was as if the King of Url had never been young or healthy. Even when the King moved about, he was silent, mellow, his eyes blank as if he had already given up on life.
No matter how hard Jerof tried to comfort himself with pleasant memories of his father, he would only see his pale face and trembling body.
Jerof felt like he was nearing tears, but he couldn’t bring himself to expel his long-suppressed worries. Instead he climbed back to his feet, and carried on with his trek.
He could not stop himself from overthinking how he was weeks, perhaps days, away from marrying a princess he had never met before. It was absurd how royal families would force their children to be with Hagrans in the name of Planetary Alliance. He never fathomed why he had to waste his youth on being with someone he did not care for, when he could simply declare the alliance.
As his four claws drove into the snow, Jerof recalled his conversation with Princess Finoa, his sister.
“I know it’s a lot of pressure,” she had said when she noticed the tears in Jerof’s eyes as he walked out of his father’s dwelling. “But we both knew this day would come.”
He had nodded. “If father thinks I will be a great leader, then I know I will. It’s not the pressure, Finoa. It’s seeing him go. I’m ready to do this on my own, if I could have him by my side. I’m not ready to let go.”
Finoa had grasped Jerof by the shoulders, lightly shoving him back and forth as though awakenin
g him from a nightmare. “He’ll never be gone. He’ll only die if we forget him, but we never will. He will guide you in your battles.”
“Battles?”
Finoa had pointed her index finger to his chest. “Battles,” she had repeated. “The kind of battles that you have to fight on your own. Go on your trek like you always do. Don’t just stand around and watch him. He’ll be here when you come back. Go seek the answers you can’t reap from us.”
If there was any warrior in Url that was more valiant than he was, it was Finoa. Although Hagrans would never take her as such, no one knew her as Jerof did. Aside from his father, Finoa was the one he always went back to for advice. He would already know what she would say, but he would still want to hear it from her lips. Her words motivated him more than his own inner voice.
In the distance, Jerof could finally see the snowy mountain where he usually meditated. He had to get there before sunset. It was Finoa who had shown him her favorite hiding spot whenever matters in the kingdom got too stressful. She had promised herself that she would never show it to anyone. But then she found herself leading the way when Jerof was grieving the death of their mother. Finoa was not going to leave her brother behind as she went for her spiritual trek.
And then it became their spot.
The winds howled as Jerof stifled his groans. The Prince of Url had been established as one of the most powerful warriors Hagran had ever seen. He could not fathom how all his power and intellect was just going to be set aside for him to wed a princess, who likely felt as enthusiastic about marrying him as he was. Deep inside, he knew there was another way. His instincts had never been wrong.
Jerof finally reached the foot of the mountain. He drew his claws and started climbing the slope on all four, with all of his clawed limbs keeping him from tumbling back down. The blizzard was strong enough to blow him away in the event he let go, but it posed no challenge to him. The speed with which he climbed the mountain was quick enough to render him sprinting across the steep slope.
He made it to the summit in a matter of minutes. Jerof looked up at the sky – it was at least an hour before sunset. He still had enough time.
Cross-legged, he sat on the snow. His fur was standing upright, the ends frozen, but Jerof was perfectly comfortable. He could only meditate at such low temperatures; they helped eliminate all the voices that kept running in the back of his head.
As he closed his eyes and focused on the rhythm of his breath, all the noises disintegrated, and he could hear nothing but the gentle whistling of the wind. Then in the distance, he thought he heard a female voice which sounded like it was screaming for help. His eyes sprung open, but no one was there.
The screaming was back as soon as he closed his eyes again.
Jerof’s eyes darted from one side to the other, as he tried to interpret what he was hearing. He usually received his answers in visuals, but for some reason, all he could see was a pitch-black abyss. In the background, he could hear snapshots of feminine voices saying incomprehensible words, like it was a foreign language.
All the voices then unified into a single one. The female who spoke seemed to be in distress, perhaps begging for her life.
“Who are you?” he asked, but received no response. The voice went on, as though it was a part of a film that played regardless of his wishes. He opened his eyes to make it stop, but it would contine. The voice got louder and more high-pitched until it was nearly deafening. Jerof rose from his posture, pressing his hands on his ears as he moaned in pain.
It stopped.
His chest heaving, Jerof was muddled. He had never experienced something so absurd, especially since he could not see a thing. Something was wrong. It was clear the answer was not as binary as yes or no – there was something which was left undiscovered, a missing piece of the puzzle that had yet to reveal itself.
Jerof laid across the summit, his limbs stretched and his long and dark braided hair stretched next to him. He watched the sun slip behind the icy horizon, with hues of green, yellow and bright red coalescing to create the sight that he sought in these outskirts. For a moment, he wished he could remain right where he was for the rest of eternity, where he wouldn’t have to worry about matrimony, wars, or dying family members.
This was the only place where he would enjoy his own little world with no interruptions.
But he had thought too soon.
As he gazed at the sky, he noticed a blinding trail of light that curved across the sphere. He rose, shielding his eyes from the incandescent trail. He walked toward the edge of the summit to check where the source of the light was. In the distance, he saw something – or maybe someone – moving irregularly.
He looked back up at the sky. Is this my answer? he wondered.
Without second thoughts, Jerof swung his braid back and drew out his claws. He threw his satchel over his shoulder, and with his back straightened, he slid his feet along the snow as he slid down the steep slope. Mist formed behind him as he sped down to the foot of the mountain. He scanned his surroundings, then peered at the sky, tracing the streak of blinding light with his finger.
He squinted as he tried to catch a better glimpse of what was in the distance but couldn’t make out anything from the mist that formed in the blizzard.
With slow, but decisive steps, Jerof strode forward.
Chapter 2
The frigid winds cut Liz’s skin as she gasped for air.
Completely covered in snow, she could barely feel her skin, which was still clad in nothing but her bikini. She shivered as she climbed to her feet.
“Kristen?” she called out. Liz gazed around the snowy mountains in bewilderment. “Cameron?”
The trees were bare, and the branches seemed to slowly grow into more complex shapes the harder she stared at them. A distant cawing disrupted her hypnotized gaze. She lifted her chin up to witness a bird that at first glance looked like an eagle, but seemed to change color with every blink. It was likely the reflection of the skies – which were an amalgamation of faint green and red streaks loosely braided together.
Liz’s lips trembled as she tried to warm her bare body with the friction of her hands against her desensitized skin. She could not stand straight, her knees wobbling as she tried to walk, unable to muster the energy to do anything but shake.
“Help!” Liz cried out before her face wrinkled and her eyes watered. It seemed like even her tears would freeze in this barbaric temperature.
“Where the fuck am I?” she muttered to herself, sniffling and turning around in circles.
She had no idea whether her friends were still alive or not. She could have been the only one who made it out in one piece, but it didn’t seem like she was going to last long. She dropped to her knees, her body involuntarily quivering for an ounce of warmth.
Liz felt like succumbing to the blizzard, allowing her body to lay across the snow. All she could see were the pitch-black branches of the trees growing against the vibrant skies in geometrical shapes. Along the outlines of the branches, a vibrant pulsating yellow seemed to emanate from the trees. For a moment, it seemed like they could turn into any shape she would think of, but she was proven wrong when one of them seemed to grow bigger and bigger.
She then noticed that every object or being in this place was outlined by a different pulsating color.
It took Liz a moment to realize it was not growing in size, but was coming closer as it reached toward her face. She rolled over, letting the branch land in the dent she left in the snow beneath her.
That’s when her survival instinct kicked in and took over. Whatever kind of trees she was surrounded by gave her the needed adrenaline to run for her life. The problem was, there was nowhere to hide. All she saw were exotic birds and wooden branches following her every move. No matter how fast she ran, the trees seemed to catch up. She cried for help, her tears streaming down her cheeks.
Then it suddenly occurred to her that she must stop.
Once she did, she turned
around to find that the branches had retracted. The trees were not attacking her, but simply followed her abrupt motion. With her eyes fixed on them, she walked backward, stunned when she found the boughs growing at a slower pace.
Liz had successfully made sense of the first puzzle piece.
But she still had no idea where she was.
With every step she took, more snow slid inside her sneakers. Everything about this place was making her anxious. As she tried to make sense of her present, she realized that wherever she ended up had something to do with that cockpit that Cameron had accidentally activated.
“They girls are here,” Liz said, comforting herself. “They have to be here. They’re here,” she repeated.
“Kristen?” she hollered.
The only response was her own echo. The atmosphere was thick with billows of mist, which stung in Liz’s lungs every time she took a breath. She had to find a source of warmth, and she had to find it fast.
She found that hearing herself hum or speak worked to keep her sanity in-tact, as though the mere reminder that she was still alive and breathing was what kept her going.
Everything in this place – whatever it was – seemed to possess a complex sentient system of its own. The birds, at some point, were watching her. Everything alive that she had come across was acting territorial in one way or the other. These creatures were likely curious as to who she was. After all, she was the stranger in this bizarre land.
She looked down, noticing her thighs and legs were covered in goosebumps, her skin getting bluer by the second. She was still frantically trembling, but she didn’t feel like she was anymore. She had been doing it for long enough to adapt to its motion.
She had to find a way around those trees.
Everywhere she looked, the branches extended around her so that she was completely encircled by dark curlicues that got thicker in the distance. There was no way she could see where she was going. She could have been walking in circles, and she would never know.
