by Alex Rey
There Carpla stood—all alone—as he pulled his sword from the griffin’s blood-bathed body. Tucking his word beneath his arm, the suddenly-ambitious Mocranian dug into his bag of orbs, took one out, and threw it on the ground. What resulted was the appearance of a magenta bubble.
At this moment Carpla grew suddenly squeamish in the presence of the griffin’s dead body. With a small shudder running down his back, he put down his sword and wrapped his arms around what was once a worthy adversary.
Oh, what am I doing? he asked himself as he picked up the deceased bird from the ground. Not used to such demeaning tasks, he picked the griffin off the floor, hauling the creature’s body over to the bubble in front of him. Upon making it to this spherical mass of cool air, he carefully placed the griffin inside the bubble. There, he thought, relieved and shuddering. Now I can carry this much easier.
Now with the griffin dead and captive, Carpla decided to head back home. Using the same sword he had used to slay the griffin, Carpla touched his sword to the soil beneath his feet. Such an action caused the ground beneath him to shake and quiver until it finally gave underway to both Carpla’s and the griffin’s weight. As a result, they both fell into Mocrano’s dark atmosphere.
Using whatever weightlessness he still held, Carpla grabbed a hold of the bubble and slowly floated down to the Mocranian city below. I barely recognize this place, he realized while still falling. I’ll need to find another Eas before I can even think about making it back home.
A soft landing brought Carpla into a whole different place. While he could not make out exactly where he stood, he felt at home.
Curiosity taking over his thoughts, Carpla turned his head and took a look up at where he had just fallen through. Although the sight had remained unseen to his eyes, the hole he had created with his blade slowly found itself blanketed in magma—which would eventually freeze into a solid. Therefore, his mess would become invisible within time.
Only a short distance from another Eas, Carpla held a tight grip on the bubble, letting out a grunt. Not caring whether or not anybody thought this as strange, he marched over to the Eas and placed himself inside. He released a sigh as he waited for the next teleportation.
--
Shortly after being teleported back home, Carpla pushed his bubble down into his castle’s basement. Already tired of seeing the griffin’s dead body, he hurried on down, careful not to pop the bubble at the wrong time.
After a while, Carpla made it down to the very bottom of his home. Dust liked to settle in this room, but Carpla—already made from the dust surrounding him—paid no heed to it. With his furnace serving as the only source of light—a light which made the room look blue—he felt a sense of caution lingering in the air.
Carpla finally popped the bubble holding the griffin. As a grunt of tiredness escaped from the filthy collection of dust, he took a look over at the furnace, a light-blue shine reflecting off his robes. Carpla carefully uncurled his sleeve and reached a hand into the furnace. Once in the collection of scorching-hot stone, he focused his sight on the torches hanging on the walls.
Just as quickly as he had placed his hand in, Carpla pulled out a small collection of blue flame. Within a heartbeat’s notice, he swung his arm in an arc parallel to the ground. As a result of doing so, the flames in his hands spread out to all the torches in the room—causing them to catch fire.
Now that Carpla could properly see, he took out his knife and started cutting out whatever unnecessary material the griffin carried. This material, he believed, was every part of the griffin’s body—excluding the bones. As almost all Mocranians were made from bone, Carpla desired his son to be made in the same way.
Not used to the Earth dwellers’ bodily functions, Carpla found himself easily growing lightheaded with revulsion. This is for my son, he constantly reminded himself as the uncomfortable process continued. But this won’t be easy.
His sword in hand, he started carving the unnecessary debris from the griffin’s body. Unfortunately for Carpla, the process of separation took almost too long for him to bear. He hadn’t any idea how much time had passed; he hadn’t any idea on how much longer this process would take. How many organs could a griffin hold?
While unnecessary, Carpla needed to go through with this process if he wanted to keep Molar looking like a Mocranian and not a slave. This skinning resulted from a single Mocranian fact: Mocranian citizens were shaped by bone while the slaves were shaped from bone, meat, and flesh. Not removing certain parts from a soon-to-be-born child would only result in them being mistreated by the Mocranians.
After what seemed like days, he had finally come to the end of the griffin’s skinning. As a result, a sense of relief swept over him. At the same time could he now see the pure white of the griffin’s bones. Finally! he thought, heaving a sigh of relief.
Carpla pushed the flesh and meat of the griffin away from the bones with his foot as he marveled at the griffin’s skeletal features. However, the most astounding feature was the griffin’s ability to slowly grow from a griffin to an eagle.
Such a sight blew his mind, as he had never seen any other creature do anything like this. While he had seen many griffins before, this was the first time Carpla had actually taken a close look at one of their skeletons. This fact resulted in him taking extra precautions when bringing the body over to his furnace—as dropping a single bone could have resulted in a possible birth defect.
Swooping the bones from under his arms, Carpla marched his way to the furnace and rested them on its blue embers. Once he had done so, he shut the door in order to keep the furnace’s heat on the inside. As the furnace created what would soon be his son, Carpla was suddenly reminded of his own father.
His thoughts being drawn away from his father, Carpla faced the furnace and quietly wondered, Did enough of my dust rub off on his bones?
The main method for creating Mocranian children was one of great complication and intensity. Step-by-step, the main idea of this method was to take over a corpse with the power of the burning embers—much like the ones in Carpla’s furnace. The purpose of such heat was to create a spark of new life within the body.
Carpla knew the griffin would receive the spark of new life in its bones, but worried whether or not he had mixed in enough genetic material into the solution. Without any of this material, the final result of this process would turn out as a mere clone of the griffin Carpla had known before killing him.
He patiently waited as the furnace brought life into the burning bones. The mix of embers and fossils began boiling together, with a hint of unity coming between them. This very thought caused Carpla to wonder how the bones could have survived such heat.
With time, the light within the furnace began to dim. Once this dimming had come to pass, a small rumble vibrated against the walls of the furnace. As a result of hearing this rumble, Carpla rushed to the furnace and opened its front door. The result of him doing so caused his mind to burst with excitement.
An odd-looking head poked through the door, youthfully shining into Carpla’s eyes. Not a single scratch or crater showed itself on the young griffin; not a single impurity stood out.
“Welcome to Mocrano, Molar,” Carpla greeted his newborn son, almost feeling the need to pet the griffin.
Molar did not make a direct response to his father, but only continued to stare at him. Molar tilted his head slightly, wondering who and where he was.
--
Chapter II
Yofel’s Former Home
Carpla named his son Molar. Carpla held great faith in his son, knowing Molar would one day stretch Mocrano’s power around the world.
Holding little doubt in his child, Carpla believed Molar had the courage and strength to make a global superpower out of the empire. With time, Mocrano would become strong enough to trample over anything the humans had to throw at them.
Yofel had himself to thank—as none of Mocrano’s success would have existed if he hadn’t migrated from the d
istant planet of Eas to Earth all those millennia before. It was a soothing fact to know he had become immortal—as he would have never come so far without his immortality.
--
It was tens of millennia ago when Yofel lived as an inhabitant of planet Eas. Related to the inhabitants of Earth, the Easi people looked very much like humans. Internally, however, the Easi held cold blood running through their veins. In addition to cold blood, the Easi’s hands held only four fingers on them.
The planet contained—not green—but dark-blue plants surrounding much of it. Mixing in with these were the oceans: giant lakes of silver freshwater. The silver color came as a result of an abundance presence of Mercury within the water.
Fascinated with the deep night sky, many of Eas’s inhabitants planet took it upon themselves to become gifted astronomers. With such knowledge of what lay outside their planet, the Easi were able to make calendars, clocks, and even make predictions of the future—on some occasions.
However—although their telescopes held the ability to stretch Easi sight into the beyond—they had only been able to find one life-like planet during their entire space exploration. The planet they had discovered appeared to give off a tiny, light-blue glow. Near impossibility came in detecting it—as it was surrounded by what seemed like billions of stars.
Thanks to their great knowledge of astronomy, the Easi knew just how dangerous the stars could have been. With such knowledge, they discovered an enormous asteroid heading toward—the likes of which originated from their already-dangerous star system.
As Eas was grateful enough to be created and inhabited at a very early age—in comparison to most other planets—some of the planets closer to their star than Eas were still being pummeled by meteors as a result of unsettlement in the cluster of planets. One of these meteors, however, was the one Eas’s astronomers had discovered would eventually end in death for the Easi.
Such was the word even Yofel had taken hearing of—when he realized he had a choice to make. Words of a city by the name of Tyko and its blade of immortality had spread to his ears in recent days. Such a blade was rumored to rest in a temple—a temple with which still desired a footprint within its dwelling.
The transgression from mortal to immortal was performed by nothing more than the contact of the blade with one’s blood.
Tyko’s differences in the rest of the other Easi cities lay in the traps and technology the famous city had set up. Because of this fact, the rest of Eas feared what the city of Tyko had to offer. Yofel—being that he lived close to Tyko—knew of all these modern marvels.
The first time he had heard of the possibility of Eas being destroyed, Yofel made it his mission receive the blade of immortality. Taking any chances for immortality, Yofel told himself over and over again that he would travel to this temple—no matter what dangers lie ahead.
While a small part of him objected against the existence of this blade, Yofel absolutely new it was the only way out of his predetermined death. Although he hadn’t realized it, the blade did not only offer immortality, but could also take the life of an immortal. How such a thing could have happened was a fact nobody had the answer to.
It was before creating Mocrano when Yofel held—what Mocranians believed—what was an undignified look. Mud-stained, torn, dark-green robes covered up only a portion of his skin. Yofel’s clothes, however, once belonged to a deity of Eas—but was eventually thrown away by its original owner and scavenged for by Yofel.
Without a mask to cover his face, Yofel held a look unrecognizable to Mocrano’s inhabitants. Long, brown, and curly hair hung from his head as did a short beard from his face. Such a beard would have held a small amount of offense toward the Easi during that time.
The reason for Yofel’s austere appearance came from one fact: he came from a familiy of poverty. As a result, most of what his family made was from farming.
It was out on his own farm where Yofel lived with his wife: Baphonsey. Every day was the same day—with nothing to do but farm. A very peaceful life they had lived, with almost no distractions to separate them from their chores. Yet, even with all this in mind, Yofel found himself listlessly dulled each and every day.
Yofel and his wife spent their days doing simple farm chores. Such chores involved milking goat-like Easi animals known as klai, cleansing their land of the blue weeds inhabiting it, and even collecting their annual crops. Very little bloodshed had come into play—too little for Yofel’s taste.
Another ordinary day had passed for Yofel and Baphonsey as Yofel made his way into the kitchen of his tiny home. While barely any work seemed to go into the creation of their home, its simple design was good enough for the family of two. Compared to Yofel’s Mocranian humble abode, this home was nothing more than a miniscule insect for him to smash beneath his foot.
In this kitchen also stood his wife; in the kitchen was she feeding their home’s fire. Taking hearing of her footsteps, he asked of her, “How are the klai?”
Placing an old wooden bucket of creamy milk on the countertop next to her rusted sink, Baphonsey replied cheerfully, “They seem to be doing better than usual! I’m not sure, but I think Mina might have babies again.” With a turn around in the sink’s direction, Baphonsey removed her gaze from Yofel’s stare.
I guess now’s a better time than any, Yofel decided. When no words had come to pass from Baphonsey’s lips, Yofel decided to turn his mind to the subject of the immortality blade. Sighing, he walked up to his wife and told her, “Baphonsey—I’m going to head on over to Tyko.”
“Hm?” wondered his wife, her gaze still locked on the sink.
“Before too long, we’re going to be destroyed by the universe itself. That’s why I’m going to go to Tyko—so I can finally get my hands on the blade of immortality. It’s our only chance, Baphonsey!”
“I want you to know that once I grab my sword, I’m going to travel to Tyko so that I can get the blade.” A small pause came into their conversation before Yofel continued, “Nothing’s going to stop me.”
Abruptly turning her gaze toward Yofel, Baphonsey exclaimed, “Yofel—please don‘t go there! You know how well the people of Tyko make their traps.” A pause of silence occurred as Yofel fought the urge to honestly tell his wife he could make it back safely. I know I can’t tell her that!
“Please, Yofel; I’ve heard many rumors about that temple. I haven’t believed in them all completely—but if they are true, the traps that are set up will crush every bone in your body!”
“But we will still be killed in a week if we don’t become immortal!” Yofel argued.
Another pause of silence occurred, Baphonsey releasing a sigh from her nose as she looked down at her feet. The pause lasted until Yofel finally told her, “I’m going to get my sword and walk over to Tyko. And there’s nothing you can say or do to stop me. I’m going to get that blade!”
Marching up to their shared bed, Yofel took a glance just underneath his bed to find his sword wrapped in a stone scabbard. Baphonsey still stood where she was the last time he’d placed a glance toward her. Every single one of her muscles remained locked in place as Yofel hooked his scabbard to his belt.
Just before making the true exit from his home, Yofel took hearing of his wife when she screamed, “Yofel—wait!” Even with the sound of Baphonsey’s fearful voice penetrating his ears, however, Yofel’s head made no attempt to look back at her.
Rushing up to the exit of her home, Baphonsey’s four-fingered hands curled around the door’s hinges. In frustration, her brow twitched; in sadness, she shed a small tear. Blinking, her vision blurred as she witnessed what she believed to be her last sight of her beloved.
From his scabbard did Yofel pull out his sword. It then when he was reminded of his days on Eas when he trained himself as a swordsman. As a child, he had always loved hitting blocks of stone until whatever object he was using to hit them caused them to finally break.
Fascinated with swordplay at an early age, Yofel would o
ften ask his childhood friends to duel with him using wooden sticks. One on one, he would usually emerge victorious over all opponents. Those were the good days. Thoughts of his childhood mixing in with thoughts of his world being destroyed caused Yofel to feel a pang of misery piercing his heart.
Fortunately for Yofel, the upcoming trip would not be an odyssey of trial and hardship—due to his home’s short distance away from the mysterious city. It almost came as a surprise to how he and Baphonsey could have lived so close to such a famous city and—at the same time—live in a life of poverty.
Similar to Mocrano, nothing but sand and dust covered the ground beneath Yofel’s feet. He peripherally watched as his gray surroundings remained still—even with his breath passing by. Without even glancing in its direction, he took sight of a small oasis with Easi plants infesting its silver water.
Soon had he found himself standing in front of the entire city of Tyko. Everybody here lived in towers—a luxury Yofel himself could never afford. From what he could tell, these towers yearned to touch the sun; whether or not they had done so yet was a mystery.
Standing between him and the temple was a horde of civilians—some of whom he’d already come to know. This horde stood as an obstacle between Yofel and Tyko’s temple. Fortunately for Yofel, such a horde served no more than a mere lake for him to pass through. While there were those in the city who couldn’t help but to stare at him, nobody seemed to point out Yofel’s obvious poverty. Well—that’s a relief!
Once he came face-to-face with the temple, Yofel took notice of the main entrance door and witnessed a locked door. On the two doors of the temple was a horizontal, rectangular inscription—split up symmetrically by the doors’ intersecting edge.
Walking up to this inscription, he noticed two groups of strange hieroglyphics just aside the left of the door. What does this even mean? Yofel asked himself silently. Not at all sure what this writing could have meant, Yofel thought it was a riddle for those who could read it. If so was the case, he therefore had two riddles to solve.
