The sun scorched as children played hide-and-seek. Bob, who'd been "it," searched happily, his missing tooth flashing when he smiled. He heard giggles and rustles and darted toward the bushes.
But all he found was blood.
He gasped. A cold shiver ran down his spine despite the heat. He tripped on a tree root; blood splashed his face. He looked up and saw the remains of his friend Emma.
A monster crashed through the undergrowth, shaking the leaves. Tears filled Bob's blue eyes and he ran.
The forest felt like a pocket of darkness; light from outside barely pierced it. His hand caught the warmth of a sunbeam as he leapt out of the shadows.
And then nature seemed to turn on him — he stumbled again. For a moment he stared at the sun before the monster blotted it out.
Time stretched, or maybe it stopped. The monster froze mid-step. The chill in his bones wasn't from fear but from Bill's presence towering beside him.
"Have no fear — I am here," Bill said, a line ripped straight from one of his comics.
Later, Tana tucked a child into bed after it finally fell asleep.
"Monsters started appearing after Blaze left. Another portal opened. Some kids went in and never came back… and my other chi…ldre—" Tana's voice broke and tears flowed.
Bill's fist clenched. "It wasn't Blaze's fault. Can't the priest close the portal?"
"He can't unless the head of the monsters is defeated. He's only blocked the portal temporarily—" Her words froze into ice.
"I'm going into the portal. Don't worry. I'll make sure you never shed another tear, Mom."
Bill entered the priest's room. The priest came by during the day, but never at night. A chill crept down Bill's spine as he searched the dim room.
"What brings you here, my child?" the priest's voice echoed.
Bill turned. The moon through the window lit only part of the priest's face; Bill swore he caught yellow eyes in the dark.
"Greetings, father. I heard about the incident. I want to save those children — they're my family."
A small smile crossed Bill's face, but it felt wrong, like a borrowed expression.
"You've become a hero," the priest said, stepping out of the darkness toward him. "Yet this is above you, Bill."
"There are those who want saving, those who refuse it, and those who want to be saved but cannot be s—"
"I know that! I'll save them." Bill grabbed his chest as the memory of war flared hot and raw. "They have one life. I'll make sure they don't lose it before their time. I'll make sure the disease called life doesn't take them!"
"You want to walk into a cave without a torch, yet you trust your eyes — eyes that cannot tell a human from a devil." The priest's shadow stretched oddly on the floor.
"I won't stop you if you must, my child. I myself would do the same if not for my age." He held out a small tube. Inside glowed a red scorpion.
"I give you my blessing. Take this. Use it only when you have no other option."
Bill accepted it, puzzled by the priest's words. The priest always spoke in riddles. Bill didn't understand most of them, but he bowed in thanks.
"Yet you yourself have one life," the priest added as he left.
Bill tied a sack around his waist and headed for the portal.
"Bill—wait!" Rebecca cried.
"I'll be back. Rebecca, take care of the children for me." He didn't turn.
Rebecca ran after him, but Bill raised an ice wall between them.
"Who's going to save you, Bill?" she shouted as her fists pounded the thick ice. He didn't hear her.
The sun scorched as children played hide-and-seek. Bob, who'd been "it," searched happily, his missing tooth flashing when he smiled. He heard giggles and rustles and darted toward the bushes.
But all he found was blood.
He gasped. A cold shiver ran down his spine despite the heat. He tripped on a tree root; blood splashed his face. He looked up and saw the remains of his friend Emma.
A monster crashed through the undergrowth, shaking the leaves. Tears filled Bob's blue eyes and he ran.
The forest felt like a pocket of darkness; light from outside barely pierced it. His hand caught the warmth of a sunbeam as he leapt out of the shadows.
And then nature seemed to turn on him — he stumbled again. For a moment he stared at the sun before the monster blotted it out.
Time stretched, or maybe it stopped. The monster froze mid-step. The chill in his bones wasn't from fear but from Bill's presence towering beside him.
"Have no fear — I am here," Bill said, a line ripped straight from one of his comics.
Later, Tana tucked a child into bed after it finally fell asleep.
"Monsters started appearing after Blaze left. Another portal opened. Some kids went in and never came back… and my other chi…ldre—" Tana's voice broke and tears flowed.
Bill's fist clenched. "It wasn't Blaze's fault. Can't the priest close the portal?"
"He can't unless the head of the monsters is defeated. He's only blocked the portal temporarily—" Her tears froze into ice.
"I'm going into the portal. Don't worry. I'll make sure you never shed another tear, Mom."
Tana felt a feeling she had never felt before. A feeling she couldn't describe. It was as if she were his real mother.
Bill entered the priest's room. The priest came by during the day, but never at night. A chill crept down Bill's spine as he searched the dim room.
"What brings you here, my child?" the priest's voice echoed.
Bill turned. The moon through the window lit only part of the priest's face; Bill swore he caught yellow eyes in the dark.
"Greetings, father. I heard about the incident. I want to save those children — they're my family."
A small smile crossed the priest's face, but it felt wrong, like a borrowed expression.
"You've become a hero," the priest said, stepping out of the darkness toward him. "Yet this is above you, Bill."
"There are those who want saving, those who refuse it, and those who want to be saved but cannot be s—"
"I know that! I'll save them." Bill grabbed his chest as the memory of war flared hot and raw. "They have one life. I'll make sure they don't lose it before their time. I'll make sure the disease called life doesn't take them!"
"You want to walk into a cave without a torch, yet you trust your eyes — eyes that cannot tell a human from a devil." The priest's shadow stretched oddly on the floor.
"I won't stop you if you must, my child. I myself would do the same if not for my age." He held out a small tube. Inside glowed a red scorpion.
"I give you my blessing. Take this. Use it only when you have no other option."
Bill accepted it, puzzled by the priest's words. The priest always spoke in riddles. Bill didn't understand most of them, but he bowed in thanks.
"Yet you yourself have one life," the priest added after he had left.
Bill tied a sack around his waist and headed for the portal.
"Bill—wait!" Rebecca cried.
"I'll be back. Rebecca, take care of the children for me." He didn't turn.
Rebecca ran after him, but Bill raised an ice wall between them.
"Who's going to save you, Bill?" she shouted as her fists pounded the thick ice. He didn't hear her.
The first step Bill took, mummies and zombies pounced on him like ticks. Yet they froze mid-lunge, paralyzed by ice. Bill had not wavered, paying them as little attention as a man gives to ants.
As he pressed deeper into the pyramid, the monsters grew stronger. After defeating a massive mummy, the stone floor split open beneath his feet, and he was swallowed into darkness.
Flames flickered to life on the walls, revealing a prison-like chamber.
A tug on his sleeve—Bill spun, blade half-raised, then froze. For the first time since entering this cursed place, he saw one of his own.
"Bill!" A chorus of small voices rang out. Children surrounded him, their faces pale but alive.
Bill's lips curved into a smile, though the motion felt stiff, like an ancient door creaking open.
"I'm glad you're all safe."
"We played hide and seek, the game you taught us," a girl grinned, her eyes bright even as Bill's tears fell onto her head.
"We can finally escape!" another child cried.
But when Bill looked out through the bars, his heart sank. They were not locked in—the cell was a shield. Outside, a monstrous centipede lay coiled, its massive body rumbling with each breath.
"I'll fight it," Bill whispered. "While you escape. But be careful—the pyramid is filled with traps."
The children nodded.
With a crash, Bill shattered the bars. The sound jolted the monster awake. Its many eyes burned red as it uncoiled.
The children scrambled to the walls, scaling them with snow-white ropes wrapped around their waists, ice daggers clutched in their hands.
Bill met the beast head-on, his blade scraping uselessly against its armored skin.
Blaze… no matter what, I'll never match your talent. His chest heaved. I'm running out of spiritual energy. That's the cost of trying to imitate you.
He remembered Blaze's casual words:
"All I do is picture it."
And his own awe: You can summon fire out of nothing? I need water just to manage that…
Bill had once adapted, bending the air's humidity with his spirit to forge ice from nothing. But here, in the suffocating heat of the pyramid, the air was too dry. His ice failed him.
So he drew on the water in his own body. Each strike drained him, his veins burning.
"Just a little longer… they're almost free."
The chamber cracked. Lava surged up through red glowing veins in the stone.
One girl stumbled on the crumbling floor. She slipped, the heat on her back like a devil's breath. Is this the hell Mother spoke of? she thought. Am I a bad girl?
Tana prayed at the distant gate, arms raised as if to catch the child's soul.
Bill caught her hand just before she fell. The monster screamed, thrashing, but could not reach them on the floating rock.
"Shh. Don't cry," Bill soothed, cooling her with his touch. "You're safe."
She nodded. The others stood before him, smiling with a courage too heavy for their years. If Bill had water left for tears, he would have wept.
But the world despised heroes. The ledge beneath him crumbled. Bill dangled by one arm above the rising lava.
He reached for the children, but they shook their heads.
"Let go!" one boy shouted. "Tana is waiting! You'll defeat the monster—you're strong!"
The children climbed on. The girl he had saved glanced back once.
"Thank you," she whispered, before vanishing upward.
Bill smiled. A single tear fell, only to vanish in steam before it touched his cheek.
That's right. I'm a hero. I'll save them. I'll save everyone. His hand tightened around a small glass bottle etched with a scorpion.
He crushed it. Black veins spread across his skin as venom burned through his body.
"Mother… are you proud of me?" Bill whispered, before the darkness swallowed him whole.
The children ran, unceasing. Most of the monsters had been cut down, leaving their path clear. At last, they saw it—the portal. And kneeling before it, Tana, still praying.
"We made it! We're free—"
The boy's words ended in a choke. A dark spike burst through his throat, blood suspended in the air before the light left his eyes.
The tail slid free. His body crumpled.
The children screamed.
"I hate noise," a voice hissed. Akkad raised his hand, freezing them in place.
Only one child—the girl Bill had saved—escaped his grasp. Blind with tears, she sprinted for the gate.
She leapt into the portal, vision blurred, the difference between suffering and freedom flickering before her.
But Tana, gazing down at her, wondered: What is the difference, truly? Heaven, hell… perhaps all is vanity.
She gathered the girl into her arms, holding her head gently against her lap.
Humble apologies for issues faced while reading. I'm going through a tight schedule.