Will slumps against the side of the rock face, dragging his back against it as he slides to the ground. Clumps of dirt tumble onto his shoulders and a root tickles the side of his face. He throws his bag down, extending one aching leg out and keeping one to his chest, pulling out a stick of jerky and shoving it in his mouth. His hood shadows his face as he looks up at the sky, the sun hanging over the eastern horizon. It’s been a long couple of days.

Swallowing the dried cow flesh, he drags out his canteen and takes a swig. He never knew water could grow stale, but the taste has slowly gotten less palatable. He’s learned a lot of things on this journey, such as caves aren’t always the safest of places and foxes are vicious little bastards. But he hasn’t learned anything really all that great.

Tossing the canteen back into the bag, he pulls out a third item: a smooth, silver ball. He holds it up to his face, mesmerized by its perfect surface, glinting in the sunlight. No matter how he holds it, his hands don’t leave the tiniest smudge. Even when he first found it buried in the dirt, probably left there for a century or two, all of the dirt just slipped off.

Finally breaking from its entrancing surface, he decides to actually use it instead of obsessing about how shiny it is. Bringing it up close to his face, he breathes one word, “On.”

The ball instantly whirs to life, purple lines crossing its surface, shafts of light appearing from within. The lines outline segments of the ball, all of which begin to separate and slide into their respective positions, a noticeably larger gap appearing on the top. Will bring the ball closer to his face, once more mesmerized by the little orb. No matter how many times he watches this same sequence play out, it always fascinates him.

From the center, a thin rod rises from within its depths, a glass lens perched on top, when, all at once a blinding purple light erupts from the lens and flashes into Will’s eyes. He throws his head back, banging it against the rock wall and thrusting his arm away from his body. He brings his free hand up to his eyes, pinching the eyelid as he silently curses his stupidity. He does this every time.

Once his vision has cleared and his head stops throbbing, he returns his attention to the ball still clutched in his outstretched hand. Hovering above the glowing orb, a purple, rectangular screen floats suspended in midair. Setting the ball on the ground, the ball’s round base having shifted to become a stand, he presses the large button in the center of the screen. A bunch of different icons, buttons, and menus appear on the screen, all on top of a strange, abstract background somewhat resembling feathers.

Many of this mysterious device’s functions are entirely unknown to him, even alien in some ways. The language, though using the same alphabet, looks completely jumbled. Some words somewhat resemble ones he’s familiar with, and carry similar meanings, but, other than that, it’s all foreign to him. But, there was one thing he was able to figure out, and it’s something he’s been waiting a while to use. Poking one of the icons, an image of a paper and pencil stamped on top, a new screen pops up, this one only resulting in a page of words. His words.

Will Newbie, Adventure Log 1-

-Well, that was a lot of walking. Pretty much nothing happened all day, just walking, tripping, etc. I saw a weird looking bug, I think it had two heads…? Maybe that could be a separate log… Well, it’s getting late, and I don’t really have anything to say other than that… I wonder if I should have some kind of signature… Eh, I’ll think about it.

-Note to self: Keep away from caves, don’t underestimate foxes.

Will Newbie, Adventure Log 2-

-More of the same today, just going in and out of mountains. There are/were a few tunnels here and there, but, other than that, there’s just more road. Last night was interesting, but the thought keeps growing on me… Is this a mistake? Did I come all the way out here for nothing, do all that training for nothing? I thought I might get answers here… Like, who used this road before me? Why is it out of use? And, I guess the biggest question… Why do we need a Guardian Wall around the kingdom…?

-Well, I saw a fleuf, so that’s something! I’ve always wanted to touch one, I hear they have the softest fur out of any animal. But, once I got anywhere near it, it just rolled up into a ball and rolled away. Didn’t know they could do that.

-Nothing else new. I’ll just sleep under this tree, and pray nothing carries me off. So far, no predators, so that’s nice.

Not the most exciting adventurer’s journal, to say the least. He’s really starting to have his doubts… He shakes his head, letting the negativity bounce out his ears. No. He’s just being impatient, that’s all. For all he knows, he could turn the corner and find something cool! Like, some ancient holy grounds, where he’d have to navigate deadly traps and narrowly escape the clutches of some long forgotten god… Or find a powerful Beast with eyes of piercing red, hellbent on separating his spine from the rest of his body… Though, in retrospect, those actually sound a little too exciting for his tastes.

Returning to the real world, he taps just below his latest entry, and a keyboard appears at the bottom of the screen. But, instead of remaining a flat image, it separates from the screen, appearing as a slanted plane for ease of access. He begins:

Will Newbie, Adventure Log 3-

-Another day, another four hours spent walking uphill. Did I mention it’s been mostly uphill this entire time? I am climbing a mountain after all. It’s exhausting, and I’m frankly quite sick of it… But I gotta keep going, or it’ll have all been for nothing. I’ve gotten this far, why throw it all out so soon? Guess I’m just that impatient lol. Anyway, my legs have hopefully recovered by now, so I think I’ll get back to it.

His hands come to rest at his sides, and he tilts his head back, looking up into the sky. It’s a warm, breezy spring morning.

Suddenly springing to his feet, his arms swinging about his sides, he looks over the fence lining the edge of the cliff. His feet drag slightly behind him as he approaches the fence, being careful not to put any weight on it for fear of it crumbling underneath him, he looks out at the landscape below. Rolling hills, sparkling lakes, and towering mountains, the kingdom of Humans has it all. The wind rolls over his back, his cloak fluttering around his ankles, his hair blowing in and out of his eyes. A warm calm comes over him, as he looks over that land of green and blue. His home. But his eyes soon drift upwards, and he sees the Wall again, and his mind immediately returns to its thoughts and theories and conspiracies, a million meaningless answers to a question he hardly ever asks.

He blinks, suddenly remembering what he’s supposed to be doing. He chuckles to himself, turning around to pick up his things. He must remember to not distract so easily.

---

Every part of him feels heavy. His boots drag through the gravel, his cloak drags his shoulders down, and his bag throws off all of his balance. No one told him there’d be this much walking on grand adventures, the books usually skipped this part! ...usually. It occurs to him the other reason he wanted to go back… his twiggy legs just weren’t made for this kind of abuse...

He lifts his drooping head, peeking from beneath the brim of his hood, and he sees an upcoming bend in the road. He quickly resolves that once he crosses that bend, he’ll stop for another break. How long had it been this time…? Four, five, six hours? Looking back at the sky, the sun glares directly down at him, telling him it’s around noon. It hasn’t really been that long.

The moment he rounds the bend, he’s already slinging his bag from his shoulder, throwing it to the ground, and diving face first into it. It’s not the softest landing, but it’s quick, efficient, and not gravel. He breathes in the smell of himself and leather, before twisting his head around to get his nose out of the bag and into open air. He believes he’ll just stay here a while, and rest…

Wait… What’s that?

His eyes snap back open, his head jerking up from the questionably comfortable pillow, and looking ahead in the road. His eyes widen, his heart quickens, and his face breaks out into a grin. Scrambling to his feet, his hood desperately vying for some purchase on his head, he looks up in awe at the sight before him.

A boat.

In a mountain.

Almost as if in response, the wind picks up, ripping into his cloak and passing through the grounded vessel, a deep howling coming from its depths, accompanied by creaks and groans as the structure strains under the forces of nature. Almost magically forgetting his fatigue, he makes his way to the side of the ship to get a better look..

He’s seen pictures and models before, but he’s never really seen any kind of boat in person before. So, he’s not entirely sure they’re supposed to be this big. It towers over him, at least ten or twenty Will’s tall, and with the way it keeps groaning, he’s kind of getting the fear that it’s gonna fall on him. Vines cover its hull, making it appear as if it were covered with soft, green scales. On the top deck, though it’s hard to see from where he is, two masts bend in odd, unnatural directions, with ripped paper sails flapping about.

A few questions go through his mind, such as: Why is there a boat in the mountains? and How old is this thing? and If it’s as old as it looks, why hasn’t it fallen apart yet? and Has something gotten into my bag yet?

After checking the integrity of his bag, he approaches the side of the ship, dropping his things off right in front of it. He’s now faced with the conundrum: What now? Looking from one end of the ship to another, he can’t really detect any obvious weaknesses. The whole thing looks pretty sturdily put together. The vines creeping along its side are the only indicators that this thing’s been up here for any amount of time. There’s only one option, isn’t there?

Breaking and entering.

He frowns, reluctant to besmirch this magnificent ruin, but he doesn’t have much of another recourse. A thousand secrets lie waiting beyond this wall, and he’ll be damned if he just lets them go. He puts a hand on the wall, almost as if trying to comfort the empty vessel before breaking in. And the wood turns blue.

He jerks his hand back, watching as thin lines of light blue course through the grain of the wood, the effect rippling out across the side of the ship from where his hand touched it, before eventually dissipating. He… doesn’t know what to make of this, mostly just staring. He looks down at his hand, which looks fine, then back up at the boat, which… well it doesn’t exactly look fine, but it’s not any different than before he touched it.

Screw it, he thinks, before planting his hand full-force onto the ship, and, all at once, a dance of flickering blue energy erupts from where he placed his hand, leaving the confines of the wooden planks and bursting out to swirl and dance in the air in front of him. He looks on in awe as the particles slowly dissolve and leave nothing behind. He draws his hand back, speechless. It comes down to rest at his sword hilt.

He steps back, turning to face the cliff as his hand clutches the hilt. He draws it out with that signature shiiiinnnkk, its bronzine surface glinting dully in the sunlight. He raises it over his head before swiftly bringing it down, its point directed towards the Earth, but its blade being too short to actually make contact. He turns back around, feeling kinda terrible for what he’s about to do but not really since the thing’s decrepit already anyways.

He points the blade down at the side of the ship, grasping the hilt with both hands, before driving it down into the wood. More sparks fly as he wedges it in between the boards, tugging it up and down, prying the boards apart as they snap and groan. As he tears his way into the ship, the sparks begin oozing from the boards instead of flying out, as if they’re growing weaker the more he busts the thing open, until, all at once, the energy bursts out as splinters fly. The board tumbles to the ground, and the sparks dissipate once more as more leak from the shattered wood. The board at his feet carries no more color.

Shaking his arms out, worn from the effort he put into breaking a single board, he checks over his sword. At the point where it’d been inserted into the ship’s hull, it bent. He bent his sword the first time he actually used it, and it wasn’t even from fighting. Dang. Inserting it into the ground, he decides his hands will have to suffice for the rest of the job.

After much grunting, lots of sweat, only one nervous breakdown and twelve splinters, he manages to pry open a hole large enough to fit through. Tossing his sword through first, he squeezes his way through the gap, his cloak catching on the sides but thankfully not ripping. Once his waist is through, he slumps over the side, his face hitting the dirt below, as he worms the rest of his way through. He lies there for a moment, taking a second to let the thought of how ridiculous he must look wash over him, before finally rising to his feet, dusting himself off. He stoops to pick up his bent blade, spinning it around in his hand as he takes a look around.

For starters, the entire floor is missing. In its place is broken wood littering the ground and piling up all around. The space he finds himself in was evidently some dining space, evidenced by the shattered furniture littering the ground. To his right, two sets of stairs lead up to an upper platform, where a massive window casts light into the ship.

And then there’s the bodies.

It takes him a second to notice them, but once he does, he realizes that they’re everywhere. All reduced to skeletons, their flesh and clothes long lost to rot, they’re strewn about the ship in various mixed up positions. Some remains have shattered or altogether missing bones, while some remain in pristine condition. One skull, seemingly without its body anywhere nearby, is impaled on a rusted metal bar from who-knows-what.

But it doesn’t stop there. As he’s passing through the ruined dining court, he notices something on the far wall. A stain. A big one. As he approaches, a rancid smell suddenly fills his nostrils, and he has to cover his nose for a moment before he can continue. When he finally gets close enough, he can’t do anything but stare. He’d been expecting red, or brown, because it’s blood, isn’t it? But the more he looks on, he can’t deny it. It’s black. Black black, like the darkest void or deepest pit. It gets to the point where it screws with his perspective, as if all light is absorbed into it.

His heart starts pounding. Something bad happened here. Something very, very bad. But now he’s conflicted, does he run, or does he stay? The likelihood of whatever attacked here still being here is infinitesimally small, but it’s not zero and that’s not very reassuring. But, looking to his left, he’s reminded of the higher platform. Secrets, a voice whispers from the farthest reaches of his mind.

It’s easy to run, heck, it’s preferable. But Will was never one for the “preferable” route. Despite his fear, despite the violent scene around him, he’s compelled to continue. He must continue, or else he’ll never forgive himself. So, he makes his way to the stairs, leaving the stinky stain to stink and stain alone.

Bounding up the miraculously sturdy steps, hopping over every other step, he finds himself on the higher platform, which appeared to have taken the form of some kind of control room. Beneath the massive window, a long board of controls borders the wall, with a large wooden ship’s wheel in the center. Broken glass covers the floor like snow that really wants to cut your toes off. Thank goodness he brought his boots, he happens to be rather fond of his toes.

The glass crunches underfoot as he examines the control area. Various doohickeys and thingamabobs stick out from the panel, all serving some purpose he could never know. Interestingly, inscribed beneath them are words in a language he doesn’t understand, but strikingly similar to the language in the ball device he carries. And speaking of small metal balls…

As he’s about to turn and leave--the atmosphere is starting to get to him--something small catches his eye. Looking over, shadowed beneath the control board, he spots a little blue ball. Setting aside his sword and stooping down, he picks it up, and is immediately struck with how it feels. Its perfect smoothness, its flawless surface, it’s just like the other ball. He wishes he hadn’t left it in his bag outside now, he could do with a comparison.

Then he feels something else, a strange… tingling in his hand as he holds it. He rolls it from one hand to another, and he sees the same energy from the boards outside drifting around the orb. It’s mesmerizing, watching it seemingly dance and swirl through the air of its own accord. But there’s also a sort of pattern to it, because they all seem to be drawn to one specific direction. Lifting his head to look in that direction, he realizes it’s the ship’s wheel they seem so attracted to. Slowly, he kneels in front of the wheel, careful to keep his knees out of the glass, and holds up the orb.

There’s a metal slot in the center, one that would fit the orb perfectly. Not only that, but the energy seems to have picked up speed, dashing about far more rapidly than before, and he even feels a slight tugging at his arm in the direction of the slot.

Lesser men would have considered their options, factored in risks, or at least been a tad bit reluctant to insert a strange orb into a strange slot on a strange boat up in some strange mountains, but… Will is above such wastes of time.

Without a second thought, he slips the orb home.

It shines a brilliant blue, Will stumbling back as a loud whirring sound rolls through the ship. The blue light suddenly spreads from the orb to the wheel, then to the controls, then to the walls, the entirety of the ship appearing to come to life. Energy pulses through the walls, and a wind begins to pick up. Faster and faster, this wind whirls around the ship and through Will, throwing him off of his balance against the railing, him clutching the wooden barricade for dear life.

He’s unsure whether that feeling in his belly is the sinking feeling of regret, or he’s rising up. Crap.