Immortal Darkness: Shadow Across the Land (48 page)

A moment of hesitation came to Pesstian’s
feet as he waited for the right moment.
Three, two—

Screaming and swinging his weapon all around
and about, he rushed from his former resting place. Blood coming to
a boil, he swung blindly throughout the air. Within heartbeats did
he realize such attempts were futile.

Hurriedly, Pesstian’s escaping food retreated
from his grasp—squealing all the while. Resulting in such an
unfortunate coincidence was the acceleration of the owl’s blood
temperature. “No!” he swore, slamming his blade to the ground.
Regardless of how many animals he may have scared performing such a
deed, Pesstian still remain more frustrated at his failure as a
hunter rather than toward his tendency to increase the consequences
of such situations.

Even in exhaustion, Pesstian spent the next
chunk of time trying to capture whatever littler animals he could
find. With the sense of exhaustion aching at his stomach, however,
caused him to yearn for fun and relaxation.

--

Time passed on by without any warning until
Pesstian found himself in the midst of a small, snow-covered
meadow.
How did this place get here?
wondered he.
I don’t
understand
. Regardless of all confusion, he still pressed on in
hopes to find a bite of food.

Another rustle vibrated about in his ears.
While not as noticeable as the ruffling in the leaves he’d heard
earlier, such noises caught his attention nevertheless. He lifted
his sword from the ground, ready for the unexpected.

Where is that little thing?
Pesstian
silently growled. Eyes peeled and bones chilled, he waited and
waited for the right moment. Without any warning, a small speck of
fur showed itself unto Pesstian’s eyes.

Taking no time to hesitate, the little owl
immediately hurtled his blade toward whatever it was he’d come to
face. Despite whatever risks he was taking by throwing his sword at
somebody else, he ignored all thoughts of consequences—all worries
to be heard of—for the sake of curing his hunger.

Did I do it right?
he wondered. But
the sight and sound of death assured him he had succeeded. A squeal
expelled itself into the air as multiple blades of nearby grass and
clumps of snow turned red.

Excitement pulsated into Pesstian’s heart as
he rushed over to the blade. It was upon pulling his weapon out of
the ground when he took sight of a deceased lemming lying on the
ground. The sight of such a creature warmed Pesstian’s heart—but he
hoped it would warm up his stomach even more.

At this moment Pesstian took flight, a blade
in his talon and food in his beak. While pleased with the food now
in his presence, he found himself irritated at the sensation of
water falling on his feathers.
I better finish this off
quick.

Without a moment to spare, Pesstian gouged
the lemming with his beak. Hastily did he gulp chunk upon chunk of
the meat—hoping to leave before the storm could have grown any
worse.
Come on!
Soon did a time come when the precipitation
pummeled the eating owl.

Come on!
he repeated. Larger and
larger did his stomach grow—up until Pesstian couldn’t hold
anything more in his system.
I can’t do this anymore.
Now
with an aching stomach and skin bruised by the raindrops, he
decided to take to the sky.

The wind blew in his ears; the breeze
penetrating just as deeply as the heavy rain. Within heartbeats, he
took witness of the sky and the dark aura it expelled into his
eyes. Such a sight took him to great lengths of confusion and
curiosity.

It seemed almost as if the clouds above were
being sucked into one giant vortex.
Where’s that coming
from?
With further investigation did he discover a mass of
something black and somewhat revolting clinging onto the top of a
mountain. Taking sight of such a phenomenon, he stopped in
midflight just to investigate.

Such a mass looked like it was tens upon
hundreds of years old. Bubbles seemed to emanate from its
core—giving off even more repulsion in Pesstian’s mind as a result.
He even began to wonder if the black in front of him was alive or
not. But was the puddle truly alive or were the bubbles coming off
from the raindrops?

As one with the tree in front of him, this
black pool stuck to a spike of snow-covered rock—only to drip off
around the mountain’s cone-like shape. As a result, the more these
pieces of the black matter fell, the more it seemed to strain to
hold itself together all in one piece.

A sense of curiosity enveloping his mind,
Pesstian reached out toward the puddle with his blade and touched
the mass of black with it. It seemed to bubble even more than it
did before as a result. With a lift of the sword, he took notice of
part of the puddle of black, liquid-like matter stick to the
human-like tool—then slowly fall back into the puddle. The puddle
then started bubbling stronger and much more ferociously than
before as a result.

The little owl was unsure of what he was
supposed to do to protect himself. Should he attack or retreat—he
was unsure. As a result he froze; thinking of nothing else but the
black in front of him. As a result of freezing, Pesstian’s wings
stopped him from hovering over the black pool—all without
warning.

Before his very eyes did a party of stones
appear. Wind brushing through his ears and tears streaming from his
eyes, Pesstian stood there without any thought coming to mind. His
blade nearly came out of hand—and the sheer looseness of his grip
on it made him realize he had gone mentally cold.

A scream coming to his beak, Pesstian resumed
his tight grip on the blade and gave his wings a great flap. His
heart raced with such intensity; he wondered how his body could
have taken all the fear just now placed into his mind. Regardless
of whatever emotions or events plagued his mind, he managed to
softly touch the rocky ground with no expense to his one open
foot.

Now under the watchful eyes of several
towering stones, Pesstian relaxed as the precipitation seemed to
die down a bit. It was then when he wondered,
How can it be
raining at this temperature?
On top of that, none of the
surrounding snow seemed to meet its death when contacted by the
rain. How any of this was possible frustrated Pesstian to say the
least.

Now with the rain dying down, Pesstian was
now able to relax—or so it had seemed at first. Within heartbeats
rain was replaced by what felt like pebbles falling from the sky. A
look up brought one of these pebbles to come in contact with one of
his eyes—confirming what these
pebbles
truly were.
Hail.

He knew he had to find someplace to hide now;
it was either that or become pummeled by ice. Panic overturned his
thoughts at that moment. Where he was to go and what he was to do
seemed to become a matter of life or death.

I remember hearing that humans used to
live in caves
, a thought suddenly appeared in his head.
And
that those caves were usually in mountains, right?

Pesstian lay low to the ground, gliding all
the while. He constantly alternated his view from straight in front
of him to the mountain’s base—taking extra precautions all the
while. At the same velocity did the incoming hailstones rain down
on him without any warning.

Finally after what seemed like decades of
searching, the little owl found himself in the midst of a cave’s
presence. Taking no time to hesitate, he sped into its maw before
the weather could have hurt him any further.

At long last Pesstian felt at peace with
himself. His aching legs and stomach demanded a rest—as did his
bruised skin. With the night drawing to an end, he sat his blade
upon one of the cave’s walls, watching as it towered over his
head.

Hopefully nobody takes it this time
,
pondered he, deciding to rest his head next to the sword. Sleep
enveloped his body and mind, taking over any thought to work. With
a final yawn, his eyelids grew heavier and heavier until nothing
but darkness clouded Pesstian’s gaze.

--

This place looks familiar
, Pesstian
realized. He was in the midst of a vast, ever-expanding city filled
to the brim with skeletal creatures frolicking with one another.
Only this time, however, did Pesstian not find any kind of sympathy
toward them. He merely watched as they passed by.

“Hello?” he asked of the passerby skeletons.
Much to his dismay, not so much as a single wink was given to his
direction. “
Hello
?” he repeated louder than before—but to no
avail.

It was then when Pesstian decided to walk in
front of the skeletal figures before him. Waving his wings out and
about in the air, he strained to catch their attention—but again to
no avail. Instead the skeletons saw right through him as their
continued to make their way forward. With time they even
passed
through him without any problem.

They can’t see me—or
feel
me?
Pesstian panicked. What was going on? Never before had he felt so
small—so nonexistent—as he had right now.

Earth’s giant clock continued ticking.
Tick-tock, tick-tock,
in Pesstian’s head. It was then when
he noticed his scar was no longer glowing as it had been earlier.
Whether he should have been disappointed or relieved was beyond his
knowing. He wasn’t even sure how a scar could have been useful in
any way; the whole idea seemed entirely illogical in his mind.

Turning his gaze away from the unaware
skeletal creatures, Pesstian made an attempt to draw his mind off
the subject of his scar. As if his mind weren’t already boggled up
enough, he caught sight of an enormous castle sitting right in
front of his beak. Such had happened so quickly; Pesstian wasn’t
even sure he had seen it before.

He wasn’t sure what it was—whether it was his
scar or just sheer curiosity—but something seemed to lure him
toward the castle.
No, it can’t be the scar
, he assured
himself after taking no witness to any source of light.

“
Help me!
”

“What?” Pesstian responded toward the sound
of the cry for help.

“
Save me! Please!
”

“Where are you?” he shouted—only to find
silence his only response.
I have only one option
. Against
all possible scenarios, Pesstian witnessed one of the castle’s
windows and flew right through its mouth.

Much to his relief, no one stood at the
entrance waiting to tell him off. There was nothing in this room
but dead silence: just what he was hoping for. Without another
word, he stood upright and started exploring the vast indoors in
front of him.

All around were there trophies, treasures,
and scriptures he could not read—plastered all over the walls. With
a castle and all these valuables, it was now obvious to Pesstian
that he had entered a superpower’s territory. He could only imagine
the consequences toward so much as breathing on one of these
valuables.

These thoughts in mind, Pesstian carefully
trudged his way around the many obstacles lying in his path. He
kept himself at a peace of mind—only to be interrupted by yet
another, “
Help me!”
from the other side of the castle’s
halls.

Such a worrisome sound drew Pesstian to
literally force himself to keep from responding. He could only
imagine what would happen after releasing a scream through the
castle. He could only imagine how well such a scream would have
echoed throughout the castle’s brick-based walls.

The scarred owl heard footsteps—raising his
heart-rate as he witnessed these thumps of death. He had to hide
somewhere—which was nothing short of a simple task. Given his
adorably-tiny stature, Pesstian would be able to hide under
anything with ease.

But then there was the problem of his blade.
Oh no!
It was at least two to three times his size. Where he
could hide it, he wasn’t sure—so at the last moment he decided to
leave it out in the open. Hopefully the owners of this place would
pass it off as one of their treasures.

Pesstian sat back as a robed being walked
into the room. Nothing was exposed; not skin, not a face, or even
feet for that matter. Pesstian would have guessed this creature was
a human—because of its stature and shape—but without a glance at
any true anatomy, he couldn’t come to any true conclusion.

The being upon Pesstian seemed to mumble to
himself while strutting around the room. All the while did this
creature occasionally glance at his own treasures.
Egotistic
much?

“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.