by Alex Rey
“Hmm?” wondered this human-like figure, glancing toward the low-lying ground. Such a sight caused Pesstian’s heart to race faster than it had ever gone in the few days he’d spent with Leyai.
But now his mind was focused on Leyai. Time and time again since her death had images of her decaying corpse plagued Pesstian’s mind. No longer had he thought of what he could do to improve the quality of his life; now all he could think of was his best friend’s demise.
At the same time Pesstian couldn’t help but to think everything that had happened to her in the past few days had been entirely his fault. I nearly drowned her! he silently screeched at himself. Why did I do that? How could I do that?
These thoughts and many more swam throughout Pesstian’s mind until he was interrupted yet again by an outside force.
Without any warning or consideration, the anthropomorphic character bent down and reached for Pesstian’s open blade. Wait! he felt like shouting—but he held his tongue.
Within a few heartbeats the creature before Pesstian picked up the blade and left the room without a sound. It was then when Pesstian came out from hiding.
Come on! he swore. First that old owl, and now this—this—whatever it is? After a small pause, Just what does everybody want with my blade? A single scream, however, brought him back into the reason why he even treaded into this castle to start with.
“Help me!”
“Who keeps saying that?” Pesstian finally shouted. I really hope nobody heard that, he strained, realizing what he had just done. As luck would have it, however, nothing but silence was uttered afterwards.
With a look to his left, Pesstian took sight of the entrance to a new room. A few hops brought him into what seemed like the entrance to a new level in this castle. It was also here when he took hearing of somebody’s light footsteps. That human! the little owl realized. But I can’t follow him.
If he stalked this human-like character, he risked the possibility of being caught and even executed by it. On another note—if he didn’t stalk the human, his blade would be lost forever. At that moment, however, did Pesstian notice how he seemed to start becoming attached to the blade. He didn’t understand why; something simply drew him closer and closer to the sword.
“Help me!” the mysterious voice called out once again—this time quieter than it had ever been. Did that human take them? wondered Pesstian. What did it do?
Taking no time to hesitate, Pesstian swooped up the castle’s next level and found himself in the midst of two intercepting pathways. One appeared devoid of any living creature’s attention, while the other held within it the human creature. Deciding to play it safe, Pesstian decided to go down the empty path.
The sound of the naive cries for help continued to echo in Pesstian’s head as he continued to glide down the narrow pathway. Sitting in such a passage was not a group of treasures and valuables, but multiple boxes filled up with objects beyond Pesstian’s knowing.
“Help—,” with a hoarse voice.
Without a word, Pesstian zipped past all the boxes and all the foreign objects—all to this one person. He cared not who remained with this person in need; he had to save the, no matter what!
After many incidents of heartache and fear, Pesstian finally found himself face-to-face with whom he believed he was the robed human’s adversary. Before him was yet another skeletal creature—much unlike anything Pesstian had ever seen.
With a male voice, this skeleton gleefully cried, “You’ve come to save me?” This creature held a large beak in the front of his head along with enormous attached to his back and two broken paws. Pesstian nearly released a gasp from his beak when he realized this creature’s back paws were nonexistent, while the front two were shackled.
“Who are you?” wondered Pesstian. After taking a look over his own shoulder, “And who was that?”
“I’m Molar,” the little one replied. “And that—he was my father.”
With a quick look over his shoulder, Pesstian took hearing of footsteps still gradually fading away. Another look back In Molar’s direction and he asked, “Did he do that to your feet?”
A moment of silence came between the two before Molar feebly replied, “Y-yes.”
One little word made Pesstian feel as if his heart had been struck by a million bolts of lightning. What kind of father—of any age or culture—would injure their own child in such brutal a manner? Such a thought made the user of such force inconceivable to say the least. The only thing Pesstian could wonder was, What was his father thinking?
Enunciating each word, Pesstian brought his beak up to Molar’s and commanded, “Tell me everything.”
“Okay,” the skeletal creature confirmed. “But first—could you please close that door?”
“Oh, sure.” Pesstian was now left confused. Door? he wondered. That wasn’t a term he’d come to know—whether he was with Leyai or the humans. He pretended to know what a door was, but honestly he wasn’t fooling anybody. All he had on his side were his lucky guesses and improvisation.
Coming up to a wooden palette sticking out of the wall, Pesstian grabbed a hold of its frame and gradually shut it over the room’s opening. “Okay,” he muttered, “I’m closing the door now. Here I go.” All the while did he look in Molar’s eyes—hoping he was making the right move.
With a small creak, the door finally came to cover the hole in the room. A pause of silence then commenced as Pesstian worriedly looked into Molar’s eyes. When no hasty words approached from the young one’s beak, however, Pesstian knew he was all good.
Removing a bead of sweat from his presence, Pesstian sat down in front of Molar. Even when sitting, the little owl noticed how the creature in front of him towered to over twice his height.
With a shady gaze and a heart full of heavy sorrows and whimsical joys, Molar told him everything. From his day of flight to his fame’s demise, he left no stone unturned. He told of his stories of royalty and of rebellion—how both had all been but taken away from his grasp.
Pesstian listen as every word seemed to bring a thorn to his heart. He was left teary-eyed at the end of Molar’s tale; and yet the only thing he could ask was, “What can I do to help?”
“Will you stay?” murmured Molar in question.
“Will I stay?” Pesstian repeated in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Somebody needs to stop my father and the Mocranians—and I know that’s not me.”
“B—but I,” stammered Pesstian. What was he supposed to tell Molar? He couldn’t stop a giant power all by himself; he didn’t even think he could do so with an army.
“That scar on your face,” Molar interrupted, pointing his weary paw toward Pesstian’s forehead. “Don’t ignore it. It’s there to help you. It will flash faster depending on how close you are to your destiny.”
“You must find Leyoht and the monster approaching him before it is too late.”
“Monster?” asked Pesstian. “What monster?”
“Goodbye.” With a swivel of his head, a flash of light temporarily blinded Pesstian.
Molar, began he, Who is he? And what did he do to me? It was then when the little owl realized he was back in the cave he’d earlier fallen asleep in. Did that really happen?
With a moment of silence commencing, Pesstian realized the harsh sound of ice bashing on top of the mountain had disappeared. He guessed that meant it was safe to come out now. I’ll just grab my blade and—
Silence endured as Pesstian looked and felt around for any sign of his missing blade. Where’d it go? Did somebody take it? It was then when an insane thought entered his head. Did Molar’s dad take it from me?
But that was just a dream, wasn’t it? Maybe a thief took it when I was sleeping. Thinking a thief with a blade of that size and weight would have left behind tracks, Pesstian pointed his gaze toward the ground and searched for any signs of theft.
No footprints? No feathers? Fur? Tracks of any kind? A grunt escaped from Pesstian’s beak as he
himself escaped from the cave’s grasp. Where is it? he felt like screaming.
Molar’s father—he—did he steal it? In an attempt to draw Pesstian’s mind off of the thought his stomach started rumbling with sheer intensity. Oh, he began, I feel like I just ate—but I’m still hungry! Now without his blade, he realized, he saw no need to grow accustomed to hunting with anything else but his claws and beak.
A sigh withdrew from Pesstian’s maw as he made an attempt at finding more food. Now with a mountain sitting behind him, he felt as if he could find more creatures hiding in soil and stone. As a result, he needn’t any wings to help him scale across the terrain in front of him.
With footsteps as light as feathers, Pesstian treaded his way toward whatever source of food he could find. He felt like swallowing up a handful of insects, but his stomach demanded so much more than such little creatures.
Within moments the sound of slithering and hissing pummeled against Pesstian’s ears, catching his attention with ease. Where’s that coming from? With further investigation, he found himself staring at what appeared to be an oversized worm sticking out of a mound of soil.
At first Pesstian thought nothing of this little inferior creature—that was until he took notice of its true size. With a rapidly-beating heart, he bent down toward what he first believed was a worm and took notice of something much bigger. A moment of hesitation came to Pesstian’s mind just before he grabbed this creature by its tail.
With a small struggle, the pink creature quickly slipped out of the dirt. A series of hisses and slithers continued to spout from its mouth.
It was then when Pesstian realized this was not a worm at all—but a blind, pink snake. A jolt of fear spread in his heart when he took realization of this fact.
This snake—confused and infuriated—snapped its jaws at random while simultaneously trying to wiggle its way out of Pesstian’s talons. Knowing it was about to be a meal for a nocturnal bird, the reptile made an attempt to sink its teeth into the little owl’s leg.
Fearing for his life, Pesstian waited for the right moment—wondering what his outcome would be. With reflexes faster than light itself, he flung the snake enough to make it dizzy and finally shoved it down his throat. All the while did he hope for none of the snake’s teeth snatching onto his tongue.
Luck on his side, Pesstian was able to gulp down the pink snake with ease. He felt as its scaly surface clambered down the inside of his throat. He nearly released a giggle as a result of feeling such a phenomenal sensation.
That wasn’t too bad, Pesstian agreed with himself. It was then when he realized, I haven’t had a snake since I was back home. Are there just not that many snakes here?
His wings spread out to his sides as the little owl skyrocket up into the air. He felt the wind blow beneath his feathers as discovered, Most of what I’ve been eating since I’ve come here were the same rodents over and over again. Is this all the other owls have to eat? Is there that little variety?
A sigh blew from Pesstian’s beak when his scar interfered with his sight once again. He repeated Molar’s words, Don’t ignore it. A small pause came before, It’ll lead me to where I need to go. Hopefully it’s my blade.
Now—as Pesstian flew far above the snowy landscape above him—his love for his background grew stronger than ever before. He gradually forgot about the place he held back in his humble abode in favor of this new home. While he took no sight of any plants sitting on the ground, Pesstian found a connection between himself and the tundra grow stronger and stronger with time.
Like a compass, Pesstian’s scar continued to lead him to as his top priority. Continuously did it flash on his head with a very strobe-like effect. Molar was right, he realized, This thing is helping me! While he couldn’t put it in words, something seemed to bring Pesstian’s emotions to its extremes. The more his scar flashed, the more joy he felt welling inside of him. If the scar flashed any less, however, Pesstian would then feel thoughts of death and negativity lingering about in his head.
Egotism took over Pesstian’s mind as he made a small dive toward the ground. This breeze feels so amazing! I can’t believe I’ve never felt anything like this before! Why haven’t I felt it back at home? Why haven’t I felt it back when I was with Leyai? Not even thoughts of Leyai could have brought him down.
Coming to the happiest state of mind he could imagine, Pesstian was taken aback by a terrible shriek! Such a sound piercing his ears, Pesstian headed toward the source of the noise. What was that? Was Leyoht in a fight? With a gasp, No! What’s that?
Standing in front of Pesstian was a black owl: a species of owl he had never seen before. The sight of such blackness caused a shiver to run down the little owl’s spine. Despite all fear he asked this strange creature, “Was that you?”
“No—” the black owl replied through a devious male voice, “I am not Leyoht.”
“What, now?” wondered Pesstian. “Who’s Leyoht?
“My name is not Leyoht.” It was then when the owl sucked all the light out of his body and started growing. This creature’s beak grew bigger and sharper—with talons humungous! Chest growing bigger and stronger, the black owl’s head suddenly developed the horns of a great horned owl.
Every part of his body was black and blood-stained. “Ah,” murmured the horned creature. “I am invincible! Whoever wishes to hurt me will only end up hurting Leyoht.
“What?” shrieked Pesstian. “Who are you? And who’s Leyoht?”
“I was once known as Bearneomal,” replied the black animal. “But now—I am Neionmt!” With a small start of hesitation, “I was told by my master to pursue and capture Leyoht at any cost.”
“Master?” Pesstian wondered. “You mean Molar?”
“Molar?” Neionmt huffed with a moment of hesitation coming to his beak. “I—don’t even talk about Molar this isn’t about him! Begone with you!” Another huff brought about a flame from Neionmt’s beak—heading toward Pesstian’s direction.
For fear of death, Pesstian lifted a wing above his gaze as an array of light blinded his gaze. Neionmt—who is he? Within moments he realized he was not on fire; he hadn’t been hurt at all! With a heartbeat of silence, he took a glance over at where Neionmt was.
With a moment’s glance did Pesstian realize Neionmt was heading toward what looked like a tree—a plant of which he had not seen since he was with the humans.
Piercing red eyes sticking out of Neionmt’s head, he orbited around and around the wood-based plant. All the while did he take a deep breath in, his chest expanding all the while.
“What’s that?” a young female called from the tree.
What? Pesstian suddenly panicked. There’s somebody in there? Without any warning did images of Leyai’s presence float about in the little owl’s mind. He remembered laughing with her, having fun with her, going through tough times with her, and even fighting with her—all of which made him yearn to wrap his wings around her.
With just enough volume in his voice for Neionmt to hear, Pesstian growled, “You leave those owls alone!”
“Leave me alone, you tiny fool!” Neionmt called out.
“No!” One word and one word alone sent Pesstian skyrocketing up toward the black menace’s side. While flying did he turn his gaze on Neionmt and commanded “Leave them be!”
“Do you wish to join them, my little friend?” he responded without a wince in Pesstian’s direction. A great flap of his wings sent the black, destructive blaze far from Pesstian’s presence in a heartbeat.
Now with enough power in his body, Neionmt released a ball of fire toward the tree.
“No!” Pesstian cried. A heartbeat seemed like generations of flight, the fireball like a spike to his chest. Whomever remain captive in that tree was sure to savor their last breath now; such a thought literally brought Pesstian to tears.
Fire crashed into bark with the power of a thousand stampeding feet and the spark of a million whips to Pesstian’s body. Such a sight made Pesstian wish he
were in that tree rather than those who had just suffered the sheer intensity of Neionmt’s fire.
A scar glowing red, Pesstian rushed up in front of the huge owl’s face. Not even hiding back his tears, he shrieked in front of him, “You’re a monster! You’re—without a doubt—the most wretched person I have ever met! How could you kill that family? What did they do to you? I bet you killed Leyai, too! Is that what you did; did you ki—”
In the midst of his question, Neionmt rested his huge left talon upon Pesstian’s chest. He picked up the little owls, squeezed them until his wings were broken, and then threw him as if he were nothing but a little pebble. The direction in which Neionmt threw him was in the direction of the blazing tree.
The injured little owl wished for nothing but to simply lay where he was. There was only one good thing that would come out of this: if he died, this pain would end. Unfortunately, if he survived, he would have never been able to fly again in his short life. Either way he would die alone—without Leyai at his side.
Epilogue
Nothing stood at his side now—not Leyai, not his family, or even Molar. Even with Molar’s advice, however, Pesstian still couldn’t understand the story behind Leyoht. Who was Leyoht—and why did such a name bring such wonder into Pesstian’s mind?
He knew he had to follow this beast, but he was unsure of how he would do so. Disabled beyond all belief, he knew not of any sure way to save himself or any of the people Neionmt wished to hurt. He knew he was powerless as a result.
As of right now his enemies had all the power as Pesstian was left powerless under a burning tree. He wanted nothing more than to be the final nail in Neionmt’s coffin; but how he would do so was beyond his knowledge.
