Endfall (3 page)

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Milo and Lyrah neared the bridge, walking in the slow wind. It was beginning to grow dark, and Lyrah had told Milo she was leaving. “Today was nice,” said Milo. The wind was beginning to blow stronger. Milo just then noticed the lack of snow on the ground; instead most of it was sloppy, dirty slush. The air was birthing a grey, gloomy atmosphere; it looked rainy. Lyrah looked back at Milo when he spoke.

              “Yeah,” she said. Milo was thinking about saying something, but Lyrah spoke first. “I have to go now.” She said, and she began to turn away.

-----

Lit by dimly burning candles, the small town of Dwinforge stood still. The air was with chills, breathed by the seaside. The gateway into the town, swayed with the breeze. But for a few wondering souls, the town was empty at this time.

              Sitting alone inside his small, uncomfortable home, was a man by the name of Mr. Potter. He was a strange man, fat and had long, messy, black hair. He sipped his tea. His ears twitched, moving to the sounds outside. He heard footsteps, far from his doorstep, but yet so near. A scream then, for the perpetrators had scared off the wondering souls of the town.
Could it be them?

              Walking in the shadows of the town were three unstoppable lynxes, dressed in darkened armor. They were nearly invisible, but they could be heard, for Mr. Potter had incredible hearing. He stood from his seat, rising to go to the back of the room, where a small speaking tube was on the wall. He whispered lightly into the rusted tube, “Lucius.” From the other end came nothing but the distorted sounds of a man waking. “Lucius,” Mr. Potter whispered again, “they are here!”

              Then a chilling voice came from the speaker, “If they dare enter, they will all be killed. I assure you there will be no survivors, unless a message need be sent to their master.”

              “They are close, Lucius,” said Mr. Potter, beginning to shake in fear. “You will be coming down to help me, right?” The door of the house exploded open, and the room was suddenly filled with large cat-like silhouettes. Mr. Potter let out a cry of terror.

SUN VENTURE

The following morning Milo sprung from his bed more energized than usual and aimed his feet in the direction of the window. The air was thick with a sort of moisture he was not familiar with. He could hear the gentle chirping of small sparrows outside his house.
Had the weather changed?
He stopped his rush briskly though, for what he had hoped was lying on the floor near the window was not there. There was no note from Lyrah.
I guess I won’t be seeing her today.
But then other thoughts crossed Milo’s mind.
Don’t just assume that. There are plenty of other ways we could meet somewhere. I think.

             
The weather had indeed changed. He visited downtown that afternoon, a dull day for him. Most of the snow had melted away and the remains of a silver rain shower were spread widely over the city. There was no sign of Lyrah at all that day. He went to sleep at an earlier time than usual that night.

              Milo dreamt well that night, but briefly. He awoke the next morning with a blank expression, puzzled by his dream. He tried to remember.
There was a hallway; a brightly painted, but faded hallway. There were people in there, but I don’t remember who.
Only fragments of the images were coming forth from the depths of his mind.

              Milo woke, then.
What?
His eyes hurt, for his vision was blurred by the blinding light coming from the open window.
Waking again?
The confusion settled, but then a new feeling arose. The dream was not so different than reality; in the dream his window was open and spilling a bright, beautiful sun into his room. When his eyes had focused he noticed that in reality, too, his window was wide open and a great beam of sunlight was sharply coming through. He squinted, and got up from his bed.

              Milo was relieved when he saw a note lying beneath the open window. He picked up the note from the ground and looked out his window. The light from the sun was almost unbearable. The note read,
GOLDHARBOUR
.

-----

Is that her?
Distracted, Milo almost slipped on a slippery rock; he was at the top of a large hill, covered in a beautiful layer of fresh grass, wet with dew and rain. Atop the hill was a road that leads down to the rim of Salem, where only a few houses were left there. This part of town was near the bay on the North side, where a dock was built and named Goldharbour. On the side of the road near the bottom of the hill was Lyrah.

              When he reached the bottom of the hill, he said “Hello,” and they went on their way. Lyrah wanted to explore deeper into the forest, not just the short Northeast of Goldharbour. The air was not nearly as cold as previous days, and it was calm. The snow had mostly melted away, revealing Salem’s true, old views. They went deep into the forest, traveling further than they had before when they saw the lynx.

              “Milo,” said Lyrah, running up to a profoundly old tree. She stopped when she neared the rotting, creaking trunk and turned to Milo. He came forward; previously he had stopped to look at his surroundings. She asked, “Do you ever think the world gets boring?”

              Milo, hesitant, responded, “Sort of,” and tried to think of more to say.

              “You want to make our own?” asked Lyrah.

              “Sure,” Milo tittered, “that sounds fun.”

              “Okay,” Lyrah said, hopping up onto the fallen tree, “Where do we start?”

              Milo followed, leaping ahead onto a rock up higher. A gust of wind blew theatrically into the scene when Lyrah looked up at him. “Here,” he said. “All of this –it’s ours.”

-----

After exploring for hours, Milo stopped for a second; something up ahead caught his eye. It was some sort of large, stone thing. He walked along the rim of a clearing in the forest, headed towards the stone thing.
Lyrah was behind him, walking alone. She had stayed back to examine a flower. “Can you see it better now?” she called.

“No,” he replied, “it’s still far off. Kinda looks like a big wall. What do you think?”

Lyrah said, “I don’t know. I have never been this deep in the forest.”

Milo turned around to her and shrugged, then looked again at the stone thing. “Come on,” he said to her, “I want to see what this is.”

They walked until Lyrah said “We’re getting closer,” and their walking suddenly became a sprint. Before long, they had arrived at a section of the forest where to trees parted. He was right; it was a wall.

The wall was made of dark stone, crafted as meticulously straight as he’d ever seen, and it was overgrown with vines and shrubs. When he stood closer, out of the trees, he saw what he thought was the top of the wall.
It’s gigantic.
What was most profound about the discovery was the size; the stone wall stood easily over two hundred feet tall.

Milo could feel Lyrah standing beside him. “Milo, look,” said Lyrah. She pointed to an area on the wall, and he understood what she was showing him. Underneath all the plants, vines, and moss, there were large carvings making pictures.

“I can’t believe this,” Milo said, “Lyrah, these must be ages old!”

“Yeah,” she said. She walked closer, right up the wall, and put her hand up to the stone and felt its cold surface. She removed a large patch of moss and vines to reveal a large carving showing men with spears, standing atop a large hill. Milo walked along the wall, looking in amazement at the ancient carvings. He saw one that sort of resembled a small village, another of what looked like hunters, and another of a lion.

“Looks a lot like some of the things around here,” said Lyrah. She, too, was walking along the wall. She saw a carving of some hunters, and she saw one carving that showed two villages in peace with one another. Just as Milo looked over at Lyrah, he saw her gasp.

“What is it?” He asked. She did not speak, out loud nor in her mind. She was standing very still, just looking at the carvings on the great, stone wall; one in particular. It was a carving of a human body, severed and being consumed by grotesque creature. The thing looked taller than a human, although it kept a similar form. Most of the human-like thing was colored a blackish color, but it had various bright colors such as yellows, greens, and blues, running along its body like stripes on a tiger. Its head was also a very peculiar shape, unlike a human head. In its hands were the remains of the human body it was devouring.

“Milo,” Lyrah started, but she didn’t speak. Instead, she pointed to the wall. Milo looked to where she was pointing. On the wall there were hundreds and hundreds of more of the human-like creatures. All the same, black with brightly colored stripes.

-----

Milo and Lyrah had explored the forest for hours. Their negative and despairing thoughts of the wall were being pushed away in their minds; they had decided to not speak much of it and focus more on some happier things. “This world is full of bad things,” Lyrah said. “Let’s try to not think of them.”

I love this.
They were quite far from the wall now, and they were exploring a new area of the forest. They were now coming across another clearing in the forest, and his thoughts were fading back into reality.

Taking the first steps into the clearing, Lyrah slowed down. Milo slowed also, just a step or so behind her. “That’s strange,” said Milo, looking into the clearing, where a large, old, wooden house stood. It was torn and abandoned.

“I wonder what it’s doing here,” said Lyrah.

“Who would live in the forest?” Milo took a step forward, towards the house.

“Do you think there’s someone in there?” Lyrah asked, hesitant to follow him.

“I’m not sure,” replied Milo, looking back at her, and then back to the house, “I kinda want to find out.” He walked forward with a volatile confidence and curiosity. Milo felt a sudden drop of rain.
Rain?
Following, came more drops. This changed the color of the sky; it dimmed the previous flowing of blue.

Lyrah entered the room, but stopped at the doorway. She saw Milo standing in the center of the room, just standing still, his back to her. His eyes roamed the crooked, old, wooden house with curiosity. He turned to face her again from the back of the room. He looked at her eyes, and then at the scar on her cheek.

“What?” she capriciously asked.

Milo cracked a smile and shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said, and he took one step forward, turning back and looking around the room again.

“So what do you think?” She asked.

“What, of the house?”

“Yeah,” Lyrah walked forwards towards the beginning steps to a staircase, “I like it.” She put one foot on the wooden, spiral staircase and looked up. Through the sunlight shining through the half-broken windows and the dust soaring about, the rest of the house on the upper floor seemed like an adventure.

Milo stood by her and looked up. Neither of them needed to say anything, they both knew what each other was thinking. Lyrah bolted up the stairs and Milo followed closely behind. The wooden boards creaked and groaned as their audacious feet flew them to the upper floor. They found the spiral staircase to be a bit higher than they had thought it was.

At the top of the staircase, first reached by Lyrah, who came to a sudden stop, there rested a long hallway, built in the same old wood and lined with doors of all sorts. There was also a balcony, to the side, that allowed one to view the living room. Milo came up quickly behind her and stopped when he saw the hallway. “Interesting,” he said. He took a step down the hallway, and then paused. The pitter-patter of the afternoon rain could be heard again. Lyrah looked out the half-broken window across from the top of the staircase and noticed the darkened sky and white rain falling.

“It’s raining again,” she said to herself, in a kind of cheered way.

Milo felt a feeling of unease stepping into this hallway.
I feel like an intruder, but nobody is living here.
Relentlessly, he continued. “Should we continue?”

Lyrah turned away from staring at the rain. “I think so.” She looked around for a moment. There were eight doors in the hallway, starting from where they stood, four on each side. But one stood out from the others. “Start with that one, there,” she said, and she pointed to the green door at the end of the hallway. “It’s different from the others.” The other doors were painted various shades of browns and reds.

Milo walked forwards, with a bit less caution as before, towards the green door. Lyrah stayed back at the staircase, to his surprise.
I wonder what this house holds; perhaps the person, or people, who had lived here, were boring.
His next step made the floor creak louder than before. He looked back at Lyrah.

“Nobody is living here anymore,” she said.

“You’re right,” replied Milo, who was halfway down the hallway, “But whoever was, didn’t want anyone past that green door. Look.” Milo pointed to the green door and Lyrah saw that there was a bronze lock on the handle. Lyrah came forward.