As the winter sun sank behind the hills, long shadows stretched over the quiet town of Slend, Hinde. A hush settled in the air, broken only by the soft crunch of snow underfoot and the occasional creak of an old porch swing. Snowflakes drifted slowly from the darkening sky, catching the lamplight as they fell, spinning and glinting like tiny stars. The streets, now coated in a fresh layer of snow, shimmered faintly beneath the flicker of aging street lamps.
The houses, with their rooftops laden with icicles that shimmered like crystals, exuded a sense of warmth and shelter. Thin trails of smoke rose from the chimneys, carrying with them the comforting scent of burning wood and hearth fires.
Daine Street was dressed for the season; with the Dream Festival around the corner, its row of old brick shops now tucked beneath snow-covered awnings and twinkling lights. A distant jingle of sleigh bells echoed through the crisp air as carriages rolled past, leaving behind twin tracks in the fresh snow. Shop windows showed off delicate ice carvings and cheerful decorations, their golden light spilling onto the sidewalk, tempting cold hands and red noses inside.
The air was sharp with cold, each breath curling into a soft cloud that vanished almost as quickly as it came. Laughter rang out across the town square as children, bundled in oversized scarves and mittens, dashed through the snow. Some were busy rolling lopsided snowmen; others squealed as snowballs flew, their cheeks flushed red with the thrill of the game.
The town's church, with its tall steeple cutting through the winter sky, emanated a sense of reverence and tranquility. The soft song of carolers was carried from its open doors, drawing some townsfolk in to celebrate another year of bountiful harvests.
As the evening deepened into winter's chill, the houses along the street glowed softly, windows fogged from the warmth inside. Families huddled together by the fire, the crackling wood filling the silence, their laughter rising over mugs of cocoa, the kind that stuck to your lips and made your tongue tingle. From somewhere down the street came the comforting scent of pie cooling on windowsills, cinnamon and apples mixing with the cold, fresh air. But in the midst of it all, Xavier Black was engaged in an argument.
"I'm telling you, I didn't steal any money from the store, Tom," said Xavier.
"You ain't gonna fool me this time, Xavier," cried Tom. "I know there was more in there when I left!"
"Come on, Tom, I'd never steal from you... again."
"Then why is there less money than there was before I left?" demanded Tom.
"I don't know," said Xavier, becoming slightly irritated.
"Okay, Xavier. That's the last straw," Tom began. "The only reason I put up with you for so long was because I knew your mother. Do you think this is what she wanted? Do you think she would have wanted her son to be like this?"
"How the hell am I supposed to know?"
Xavier stood up and walked out in a silent rage.
His mother was a very sensitive subject for Xavier. Ten years ago, when he was just seven years old, his neighbor and father of his best friend picked her and Xavier up from school. Xavier's mother was always awfully tired after she finished work, so this was routine.
As they got to his apartment, they noticed that the door was cracked open. Together, they edged inside and saw Xavier's mother on the floor face up. She was still and seemed without a soul. It was as though she had just had the life sucked out of her.
Xavier knelt down beside her and took her hand. She was as cold as a lump of ice. Tears rained down his face. The shock and sorrow were so great that Xavier blacked out moments after the first tear left his tear duct, with the last thing he remembered being the smell of mint tea permeating the room. That day changed him to his very core. In the end, they never found out how Xavier's mother died. The one thing that would always be scarred in Xavier's mind is the eyes of his mother, wide open, seeming as though still clinging to life and yet so far from it. The only thing he had to remember her by was the necklace she had always worn. It was a simple one with only a black rock pendant, but it would become Xavier's prized possession.
Xavier walked around for several minutes, staring at the ground until a quartet of bodies stopped him.
"Well, look who it is, boys. The mama's boy himself."
Xavier looked up, and sure enough, it was them: Ray Shackle, the leader of the town's delinquents, and his pack of idiots. Xavier's jaw clenched in anger immediately. Even a blind man could see what this encounter would lead to.
"The hell do you want, Ray?" asked Xavier, slowly becoming more and more irritated at the sight of Ray.
Ray grinned.
"Oh, nothing. Saw you walking around, and I was just curious. What's wrong, Black? You miss your mama?"
At this, the rest of the goons broke out in laughter, rewarding Ray for his lukewarm burn.
Now Xavier had a grin of his own.
"How's your dad, Ray? Still doing special favors for his fix?"
The grin that was on Ray's face vanished. His jaw clenched, he stepped closer to Xavier and stared down at him. At 6'2", Ray was three inches taller than Xavier, and his frame from tending to the fields was slightly larger. Xavier, however, never feared Ray as others did; he felt no need to.
"Well, I'm sure if your whore of a mother was still here, we'd all get some special favors from her."
Xavier's fist shot up so fast that Ray had no time to react. As it connected, Xavier could feel Ray's nose cracking. Ray fell to the ground. At this point, Ray's goons proceeded to attack Xavier. Xavier could hold his own in a one-on-one fight, but against three people, he was overwhelmed.
When Xavier opened his eyes, it had already become dark. The snow was falling a bit more heavily, and the ground was covered. Xavier stood up with a grin on his face. He could feel a faint river of blood streaming from a gash above his eyebrow; the scar would only make him more attractive. Not to mention the epic bruising that was going to appear on Ray's light brown skin made what had just transpired so much better. Xavier brushed the snow off of his jet-black hair and continued walking towards the edge of town.
Xavier sat on a swing in the park on the edge of town. He thought of his best friend Mel, the only person whom he could stand to be with for more than five minutes.
As though she had felt Xavier calling out for her, it hadn't been ten minutes since Xavier had been there that Mel found him on the swing.
"What's up, Zav?" she asked. As a child, Xavier could never fully pronounce his first name. Whenever he was asked for his name, he would respond with 'Zav'. Apart from his mother, Mel was the only person who called Xavier that, and possibly the only one he would ever allow to.
"Nothing, I was just thinking about you," said Xavier, brandishing a smile that almost takes the focus away from his injured face.
She smiled and sat on the swing next to him.
Mel is Xavier's only friend. After the tragic event a decade prior, she was the only person he would let in, partly because she was there with him, partly because the only time he felt truly comfortable was when they were together.
Mel saw the injuries on Xavier's face and neck, but just sighed and moved on. This wasn't anything uncommon for Xavier. He never got along with anybody besides her and was quick to anger and violence if need be.
"Ok, so how's work going?" said Mel. trying to draw attention away from Xavier's worsening bruises
"Well... I think I just got fired," muttered Xavier under his breath.
Xavier kept his eyes on the snowy ground; he was too ashamed to look Mel in her eyes. Xavier loved to say he didn't care what anyone thought of him, yet deep down, he was terrified of disappointing Mel.
"What happened?!" she asked.
"He accused me of stealing some money from the store."
At that moment, the expression on Mel's face turned from neutral to intimidating. The only other person who ever looked at Xavier like that was his mother. Xavier felt as if she was peering into his soul. But still, he tried to keep his eyes away.
"Well, did you?" she asked.
"No," said Xavier, "at least, not today."
They stood in complete, bitter silence for almost three minutes.
"I'm guessing you don't believe me, huh?" asked Xavier.
The silence continued for a little while, but finally, Mel sighed. And with that, her intimidating face disappeared.
"I do believe you. I just wonder how you always end up in these types of situations. Sometimes you act like a tool. I don't think your mom would've liked this."
Xavier grabbed his necklace. The thought of his disappointed mother popped into his mind.
Mel's words angered Xavier. "You're supposed to side with me," he thought. "Isn't that what friends are supposed to do?!"
Feeling irritated, Xavier got up.
"I've kept you here for too long. I see now that that was a mistake."
"Zav, no. I was just saying..."
"It doesn't matter."
To avoid saying something he would regret, Xavier walked away. He could hear Mel's voice calling to him. Eventually, it softened; he was far away.
Xavier was furious. No one was on his side. Deep down, he knew this was false, that Mel said what she did out of love, but at this point in time, it seemed truthful enough.
Xavier was in the mood to drink. As an underage seventeen-year-old boy, he wasn't allowed to drink legally, but he would always manage to slip into a pub at the edge of the town when he felt the need. He possessed the skills to never get caught at something most young people are unable to do.
It had started to get dark. The walk to the pub was long, but it was worth the cost. Xavier walked through the town, thinking about what Mel had said.
"Why do I always end up in these situations?"
He was becoming angrier and angrier. He was angry at everyone, at himself, at the world. He missed his mother. He missed coming home to her warm smile every day with a home-cooked meal on the table. She was the only thing he had in this small town, and she was taken from him. Even now, at that height of preparations for the festival, all he saw was a horrid grey town.
As Xavier was walking to the pub, he snuck a glance at the fields beyond the town. Far into the field was the Land of the Dead Man. In actuality, it was just a house. A very old, dark, dusty house nicknamed Land of the Dead Man because the old man who owned the house was hardly ever seen. Usually, there was always a flickering light in the house visible at night, even in the snow, but tonight there was nothing.
"Guess the old sack went for a walk," mumbled Xavier.
Finally, Xavier arrived at the pub. He covertly entered it without raising suspicion, meaning he bribed the doorman. Xerxes the doorman was well known, and his intimidating nature had kept him feared all ten years he had been at this job. It didn't hurt that he was a large, built man. The barkeep couldn't be bothered to see if anyone was underage, so he had hired the doorman to do it for him all those years ago.
Having passed the doorman, Xavier made his way to the bar. Keeping his head down, he asked the barkeep for the strongest thing he had.
"Let me get the strongest thing you have," asked Xavier.
The barkeep made a noise that seemed like a grunt of approval.
After four or five drinks, Xavier began to act out. He had no care in the world. He was dancing with strangers and seducing taken women, much to the displeasure of their dates. He remained untouched for several minutes until he escalated to breaking things in the bar, which didn't sit well with the barkeep; finally sick of the young fool, he threw Xavier out the back door onto the bags of garbage.
Xavier lay there for what felt like an hour, counting the discolorations of the moon. He would have stayed there longer if not for the god-awful smell of garbage.
Finally sick of the smell, Xavier stood up and stared at his feet to keep his balance; a whisper of a gentle breeze could knock him back down. He heard footsteps and looked up. A man in a raincoat stood before him, which was curious because there was no rain in sight.
"Trying to make a fashion statement, aye?" hiccuped Xavier.
He gave the man a snarky smile and hobbled past him.
"Running away, are we?" the man said in a gruff voice.
Xavier turned back. As soon as their eyes met a hand had clasped Xavier's neck and lifted him in the air. Though it was nightfall, the moonlight, and the man's beige raincoat allowed Xavier to see the small black dragon necklace that seemed to move a bit around the man's neck.
In his struggle, Xavier ripped the necklace off the man. At that very moment, his eyes turned bright red, and his face started to become scaly and disfigured. Horns began protruding through the back of his coat. His body seemed to double in size. Xavier tried to scream, but the man, or whatever he was, placed his hand over Xavier's mouth.
The monster threw Xavier against the wall face first, and Xavier felt his nose pop and ribs crack. He fell to the ground, and at that moment, he could only think of one thing:
"Am I going to die?"
"We're just getting started boy." said the man, whose voice was now deep and full of malice.
A blinding red light flashed as Xavier's mind went blank, and he felt himself falling into darkness.
As Xavier's consciousness slipped away, he found himself descending into a deep abyss. The sensation was disorienting, as if he were floating weightlessly in an endless void. While his mind struggled to gain control, his body. All he could hear around him was the echoing of strange noises, sounding like anguished whispers of thousands, their words muffled and incomprehensible. Time seemed to flow slowly, endlessly.
Suddenly, a flicker of light appeared in the distance. It shimmered like a distant star in a sky of pure darkness, beckoning Xavier forward. It seemed to Xavier that this faint light could be the only way to free himself. With trepidation, he moved towards the source of illumination, he continuously swung his body through the void as though crossing the depths of a lake.
As he drew closer, the light intensified, casting an ethereal glow on Xavier's surroundings. His feet landed on what felt like solid ground in the darkness. The light pierced through Xavier's eyes, leaving him writhing in pain. Finally able to open his eyes, he found himself in a vast place bathed in soft hues of blue and purple. The sky was unlike anything he had ever seen before; there was not one cloud, no sun, yet Xavier could feel the warmth of a bright star hidden in the lavender sky. The landscape seemed surreal, with towering crystal structures, cascading waterfalls, and vibrant flora that emitted a gentle luminescence.
In the distance, Xavier noticed a figure standing amidst the splendor. It was a woman, dressed in flowing robes that swayed with an otherworldly grace. Her long, silver hair cascaded down her back clashing with her blood red wings, and her eyes shimmered with a familiar warmth. Xavier could never mistake the scar running from brow to chin. He was looking at his mother.
Tears welled up in Xavier's eyes as he hurried toward her, overwhelmed by a mix of joy and sorrow. He reached out to embrace her, but his arms passed through her incorporeal form. His mother smiled, her voice a gentle whisper carried by the wind.
"Zav, I've missed you, bunny," she said, her words enveloping him in a soothing embrace. "I am always with you, even in the darkest moments."
Xavier's voice cracked as he choked out his words. "Mom, I've missed you too. I don't know how to go on without you, I need you."
His mother's eyes brimmed with compassion as she reached out, cupping his face in her ethereal hands. Though she had no solid form, Xavier felt warmth where his mother placed her hands.
"You are stronger than you think, Zav. Life has tested you, and will continue to, but you'll pull through it. Remember, love and resilience will guide you through." The world around Xavier began to slowly be enveloped in darkness again, with his mother's ethereal white figure turning black. He wanted to say something. He wanted to know what had happened, if this was even real. Unfortunately for Xavier, the most his mouth could manage was to let out a timid smile as his mother vanished.
The dream world shifted, and Xavier found himself standing in a familiar park. The swing he would always retire to whenever he needed space swayed gently in the breeze. As he approached it, he noticed his younger self, the boy he once was before tragedy struck, shown by the lack of his mother's necklace, sitting on the swing with a jubilant expression.
"Hey, mister," his younger self called out, tears streaming down his cheeks, clashing with his otherwise joyful expression. "Do you know where my mom is?"
Xavier's heart ached as he looked upon his past self. This was a version of himself he had long forgotten. He knelt beside the swing, his voice filled with empathy.
"I'm sure she'll come around soon."
Darkness took the scene away once more.
As the scene shifted, Xavier found himself in what looked to be a large, dimly lit library; so large that he could not see the end at either the front or the back. The stench of neglected books in the air was only undercut by an eerie silence. Xavier hesitated, unsure of what awaited him within.
A voice echoed from the depths of the library, both haunting and alluring. "Truthseeker, in front lies the future, behind lies the past. To the future lies opportunity, to the past lies pain. Make your choice wisely, for you choose if you are to lose or gain."
Driven by a mix of curiosity and determination, Xavier marches forward. The bookshelves on both sides lined with books and portraits disappear one by one with each step. The scent of old parchment and forgotten knowledge filled the air.
As he ventured deeper a light was illuminating in front of him, the source being an old tome on a pedestal. Xavier opened it, revealing pages filled with illustrations and inscriptions all in a language he could not understand. Before he could try to make any sense of the tome, darkness enveloped the world once more.
Xavier found himself back in the darkness, the whispers growing louder and more frantic. Panic gripped him as he searched for a way out, his mind racing with fear and uncertainty. The abyss seemed endless, suffocating him in its oppressive grip.
Just as despair threatened to consume him, he was transported to another scene.
Within a cold and foreboding cell, there resided an old man whose form was burdened by the weight of heavy silver chains. Time had etched deep lines upon his weathered face, narrating tales of sorrow and confinement. His eyes, seemingly dulled by years of isolation, held a glimmer of defiance that refused to be extinguished.
The old man's silver-gray hair cascaded down to his shoulders, unkempt and tangled, a testament to his neglected state. His frail body bore the marks of countless battles fought; scars stretching from his neck down his torso permeated his body. The tattered remnants of his clothing, torn, offered little protection from the chilling drafts that infiltrated the dungeon's damp recesses.
The old man's mouth moved as though he were attempting to communicate, but to no avail. The sense of sound had escaped Xavier's ears in this cell until the man raised a finger to Xavier's chest.
"Survive."
The darkness took Xavier for the last time.