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Lumina 4 Part 3

A harsh white light shone in Alistair’s eyes as he slowly woke up. He blinked and sat up, gazing around at yet another dark room. The only illumination was a lamp that had been placed right above his face (that explained the white light). However, it seemed only to be able to blind him and not illuminate the rest of the room.

“Well, someone’s awake,” a voice said.

Alistair recognised that voice but he could not place where he had heard it before.

“Your upgrades were successfully installed,” the voice continued.

Then it hit him: she was the voice that had told him that it was time for his upgrades.

“You’ve got barbs on your shins, cat whiskers, vines on your chest, and butterfly antennae. This all adds up to better strength and stamina.”

Someone suddenly yanked the lamp away from above his head and pointed it towards themselves. They were revealed to be an Korean-looking girl with raven black hair, red glasses, and thick, dark brown horns that started from her temples and tied around to the back of her head like a headband. Octopus tentacles sprouted from her back like wings. They squirmed around meaninglessly as if she had no control over them. Also, like many of the people from Xecro, she wore all black: a black turtleneck, a black skirt, and a black cloak.

“Here, now you can see me. You happy?” she snapped.

Alistair was shocked. He hadn’t said a word yet to her. How did she know what he was thinking?

“I’m a telepath you dork,” she said sharply.

“S-so you can read my mind?”

The girl rolled her eyes. “Of course, genius. If you need any more hints, I’m also the one who gave you your upgrades. If you need anymore help, your name is Alistair. You get it?”

Alistair recoiled a bit, not wanting her to lash out at him. He considered saying something, but he didn’t want her to get even more annoyed.

The girl suddenly grabbed his arm and dragged him off what was apparently a bed. He got very frightened for a moment, before he realized that she wasn’t going to beat him up. She let go of his arm (Alistair breathed a sigh of relief), walked to the other side of the room, and opened a door. Gentle light pooled in from the hallway in a way that reminded Alistair of a lit fireplace on a cold night.

She gestured to the door. “Do you need an invitation? Come on, go! Your body won’t be bothered after upgrades; it’s not like surgery or anything.”

Alistair hustled out the door and into the hall. He was amazed at how good he felt. He didn’t feel weak like he had before his upgrades, instead he felt strong and fit, ready to take on the world. The door slammed behind him and he jumped a little. Man, that girl is scary, he thought. The whole reading minds thing made her all the more frightening.

“Don’t let Ling fool you with all the mind-reading stuff,” someone said. “She can only read a few stray thoughts. She’s not as scary as she acts, trust me.”

That’s when Alistair spotted Thatcher standing casually next to the door.

“Thatcher! Hi!” he exclaimed, happy to see a familiar face.

Thatcher inspected Alistair and his new upgrades. “Nice. Ling may be mean, but she’s definitely got a talent for giving us upgrades. Do you want to see a mirror?”

Alistair nodded eagerly and they hurried down the hall.

“So, is this the same hallway as before or something?” Alistair asked.

“Yep,” Thatcher replied. “This is the only floor in the tower like it. No two are the same.”

“Like snowflakes?”

“Well, I guess, but the snowflake thing’s most likely a myth.”

They walked on in silence for a while before a sudden thought came to Alistair. “Is this before or after the dark part of the hallway?”

Thatcher looked at his friend in confusion. “What?”

So Alistair explained what had happened to him: going into the dark part, getting attacked by the creature, escaping, and waking up with his upgrades.

Thatcher thought about what he had just been told for a few moments before saying, “So you encountered Jet?”

“Yeah, who’s Jet?”

“He’s, uh, like the, um, guard dog for the dark side of the hall. He’s there to, um, make sure nobody gets too far and, um, gets lost?” The last part sounded more like a question.

Thatcher’s response made Alistair wonder if he was doubting the truth. But why?

“But why is there a dark side to the hallway?” he asked, returning to the previous subject.

“It is Ling’s domain,” Thatcher replied, “A place where she can do what she wants when she wants. I’m not sure how long it goes on like that, probably a while, though. The darkness helps because she can see in the dark. I can’t, but most of the others can.”

But why would she need a guard dog? Alistair thought, but he knew that Thatcher would just lie to him again, so he just nothing.

At last, Thatcher stopped at one of the door and yanked it open. He took a torch from the wall and they went inside. The torch illuminated another small space much like Alistair’s room, only it was a bit bigger. In the middle was a pit where laid charred roots and fragments of wood. Thatcher threw the torch into it and a huge fire shot up, its flames gently licking the ceiling. The rest of the room was revealed to contain a bed, a small round table, and a full-length mirror.

Alistair walked over to the mirror softly as if seeing his reflection so suddenly would encourage certain doom. But once his reflection did appear, he gasped a little. His shins (or what would be his shins) were now spiked with azure spikes that reminded him of the spikes from the spines of dragons, a pair of antennae seemed to sprout from his hairline, whiskers had been placed right on top of his cheekbones, and his chest was covered with emerald green vines that were twisted and weaved together with his ribs, giving a bit of the appearance of armour.

“Awesome,” he breathed.

“I know, right?” Thatcher said.

Alistair turned to his friend. “Why do we need upgrades?”

“You see, you and I are not from here--“

“You aren’t?”

“Yeah, it’s a long story. Anyway, anyone who belongs to the race of the Xercoians is born with ‘abnormities’ like these. So they mark us, the ones who they accept into their cause and such, just to make us feel like one of them.”

Alistair nodded; that made sense to him.

Suddenly, a mischievous glint appeared in Thatcher’s eyes. “You want to go on a little adventure?” he asked suddenly.

“Uh, what?” Alistair hadn’t expected something like that from him. He always seemed kind of calm, so what sparked the sudden change?

“The Overlord is having some meeting with a couple of very important people-ish creatures. I know a secret place where we can listen to them without getting caught.”

Alistair was suddenly in panic-mode. “People-ish? What do you mean by ‘ish’? And how do you know that we won’t get caught?”

“You’ll know what I mean when we see ‘em. And trust me, I do stuff like this all the time, even before I came here.” He seemed to get a bit of a faraway look in his eye. It was only there for a second before it vanished. “I spy on the Overlord a lot. That’s how I know over half of what I do.” When he saw that Alistair still wasn’t convinced, he added, “Believe me, nobody knows about this spot.”

Without waiting for Alistair to answer, he turned away and raced out of the room. Alistair, not wanting to be left behind (but mostly because he barely knew where he was), ran after him. They were soon dashing side-by-side down the hall. They came to the staircase and hustled down it, the noises of their footsteps echoing off the grimy walls.

Finally, they arrived onto a floor that was just another long hallway made of shiny beige marble. Nice-looking paintings and banners of deep colours adorned the walls. It seemed more like one of those halls from a fancy castle that was owned by stuck-up royalty.

This threw Alistair off a little and, for a moment, he wondered if he was still in Xecro. Everything else there was so dark and a little rough-around-the-edges while this hall seemed to glow with its own fanciness. He was so stricken with that he hadn’t noticed that Thatcher was already starting down it with a brisk speed.

“W-wait!” Alistair called, running after him.

He managed to catch up with Thatcher right before he stopped in front of a golden tapestry. Designs of keys and barrels of hay were woven beautifully against a background that sparkled as if it were a thousand gems. The tapestry was bordered by red swirls like the swift waves of a raging river. Alistair stood in awe for a few moments, admiring the tapestry’s exquisite markings.

Thatcher peeled a corner of the tapestry off the wall, revealing a dark hole that was wedge uncharacteristically in the marble. It was very narrow, seeming barely big enough to let Alistair pass without him cracking a few bones or bursting a few organs.

“It gets bigger,” Thatcher explained as he ducked inside.

Alistair didn’t want to doubt his friend, but the negative thoughts kept trying to sneak into his brain like thieves or stalkers. In attempt to shut them up, he followed Thatcher into the tunnel. Like predicted, it was quite a squeeze to get in, especially for his ribs.

The tunnel was very dark so that Alistair had to feel the walls—which were jagged bricks that made the rest of the tower—with his antennae and whiskers. The tunnel twisted a little while simultaneously getting a little wider before it went into a very steep drop. This caused Alistair to trip and flip over, right onto Thatcher.

“Take it slower if you need to,” Thatcher said a little irritably, throwing the other boy off.

They continued a bit further before Thatcher held out a hand behind him to stop Alistair.

“We’re about to drop from a certain amount of height,” he said.

“What?” Alistair asked, thinking that he had misheard him.

“We’re about to jump seven meters into a small room. Ready?” he repeated.

Alistair gulped; seven meters was pretty high up if you’re jumping. He was concerned if he would survive the fall without injury or strain.

“Ready?” Thatcher asked again.

Alistair hesitated, doubts clouding his mind. But he decided to trust him and said, “Yep.”

“Ok, I’ll call down to you when you can jump.”

With that, Thatcher disappeared.

Alistair waited for what felt like hours to hear the thump of Thatcher’s feet hitting the ground. He was holding his breath, hoping that his friend wouldn’t get hurt. Once he heard the thump of Thatcher hitting the ground, he exhaled, relieved.

“Ok, I’m perfectly ok,” Thatcher called. He sounded somewhat faraway and his voice echoed a little. “Crawl forward a little and feel the ground. Do you feel the edge?”

“Yes.”

“Ok, now sit on the edge so your legs dangle a little. Once you do that, just drop. Don’t hesitate or think about it. Only do.”

It took everything Alistair had to slide off the edge. He felt the harsh tug of safety roping around his body, wanting to pull him back, but he did his best to ignore it. He kept feeling the tug, until he decided to just get it over with and fell. The air rushed past him as he plummeted to the ground, hoping that he wasn’t going to die. His whiskers rustled against the passing air, tickling his forehead slightly.

He kept falling for what felt like forever until his entire body jolted as his feet hit the ground, creating a brisk twap! The collision with the floor caused him to bounce up. He landed not-so-gracefully on his face. His feet stung from the impact and his face wasn’t feeling much better.

“Not the best landing I’ve seen, but certainly better than my first,” he heard Thatcher say from close by.

“Thanks,” he grumbled as he got to his feet.

“Alright, we’ve got no light so create a light source.”

“W-what?”

“Well, I usually bring a torch or something to light up the room, but I wanted to see your famous magical fire in action. So make with the fire.”

“I don’t know how to do it on purpose.”

“Oh, yeah? Then how come your hands are on fire?” This came out very smugly.

“My hands are not on fire!”

Suddenly, Alistair felt his hands get very warm, like a furnace of some kind. His hands them erupted into flames the colour of a sunset. The light was fierce, lighting up every corner of the room, which was about the size of a broom closet, maybe a bit bigger. It was very dusty and smelled very strongly of mold. The only object in the room was a boring-looking wooden table.

“H-how did it—“ he stammered.

“Well, in your story someone mentioned that your eyes were going to catch on fire but you denied it and they did end up catching on fire,” Thatcher explained. He was standing next to the table, his arms crossed and his face twisted into a smirk. “So, I thought that maybe if I told you something crazy like that and you denied it that maybe it would work. And I was right!” He pulled a yellowing candle from his cloak. “Here, we’ll use this so you won’t waste much energy.”

Alistair drifted his hand towards the candle and it caught fire immediately, creating almost as much light as his hands did.

“Wow,” Alistair remarked. “But I can preform some defense spells on command, so how does that make it any more different?”

Thatcher shrugged.

“Ok, so how do I put these out?” Alistair started to shake his hands around wildly.

“Uh… Your hands will never go out?” Thatcher said, making it sound more like a question.

“Well not if I can’t call it off. How—whoa!” The flames had suddenly gone out, leaving not even a trail of smoke behind.

“I guess denial and negativity works,” Thatcher said.

The candle flame was no different than Alistair’s hand-fire, creating the same amount of light despite its small size. Alistair assumed that that was the power of magical fire.

Thatcher then gestured for Alistair to join him as he crouched under the table. Alistair followed and they found themselves gathering around a small hole with a wooden bottom where a small metal handle was attached.

“Now what?” Alistair asked.

Thatcher winked and pulled at the bottom. After a few seconds of grunting, the bottom of the hole, which seemed to be a round plaque of wood, started to move slowly up the hole. Once the plaque had been released from the hole’s clutches, some dim light pooled in. Thatcher gestured for the other boy to be quiet and they peered down it.

They were presented with a somewhat diagonal bird’s eye view of the throne room. The Overlord, who was sitting on his throne as usual, was talking to two figures. One of them was tall man who wore a black trench coat. Instead of legs, he had a light brown snake tail that whipped around occasionally and huge white wings were folded behind his back.

The other figure was what appeared to be a girl in her late teens. Her hair, which appeared to be grass, was so long that it swept the floor behind her. The boys could not see her lower body because a thick neon-green mist was produced from her hands. The colour of the mist was reflected off her moon-pale skin.

“…ing she said that she had one of those?” the Overlord was saying.

“Yes, she did,” the girl confirmed.

“Describe it.”

“Well, I couldn’t get a very good look at it, but it was very pale. I’m not sure if I could beat them. She is now totally invincible. I probably will have to back out. Send someone stronger.”

“Aeriell, that’s what happens when you get tangled in stuff that isn’t your business!”

The girl, Aeriell, stamped her foot (well, it sounded like it). “But she started it! Everyone knows that—“

The Overlord let out an annoyed sigh. “Aeriell, do your job.”

“I don’t know magic and I have no useful weapons to defeat it!”

“Go to the armory and get something, then.”

Aeriell let out an annoyed sigh and crossed her arms.

“And that’s why Sturm will go with you to defeat them,” the Overlord continued.

“WHAT?! But he’ll just freeze up at the worst moment and I have to drag him around!” Aeriell exclaimed while the other man, Sturm, just grunted.

“You are dismissed. Go.”

“But—“

“No argumentations! Just go!”

With that, Aeriell scurried out of the room, Sturm trailing slowly behind.

“Keep an eye on her,” the Overlord murmured dismissively.

Thatcher then put the plaque back into its hole and smiled.

“Well that’s the meeting,” he said.

“Wow,” Alistair replied. “So do you do that everyday?”

Thatcher turned away from the hole. “Well, almost everyday. Come on, do you want to have another adventure?”

“Sure!”

“Ok, I’m going to need you to make up a lie.”

As they climbed back up the tunnel (getting back into it involved a lot of climbing, reaching, and jumping), Thatcher explained what they were going to do and how they were going to do it. Alistair was completely on board for the plan, nodding and commenting enthusiastically. When they reached the top of the tunnel, Thatcher blew out the candle and slid out from behind the tapestry. Alistair followed and collided immediately with Thatcher, who was standing, stunned, in front of Fig.