Zachary Xaviante felt exhausted from the moments, seconds, minutes, it felt like an eternity to him. “I will be the victor,” he had said. Though, this may have been a facade of false confidence as he feared for his life and felt the trembling through his feet and hands. Taking recollection of his body, he honed in on the vibrations and realized that he was standing only half tall now as his knees had began to buckle and his entire body was shaking. Then, without warning, all was still again cept the ripples flourishing across the expanse of the Lake of Sirens. This did not calm Zachary but only heightened his suspicion and vigilance of his surroundings.
Calm, an eerie stillness, a deafening silence, all sweeping through the thick, choking air looming around Zachary. Then suddenly, a creature breached the tense waters surface that sent an erupting spray, blocking out all but the final beams of light that were being cast down by the illuminated moon. Zachary had not noticed until now but he was there in the rocking boat, on his ass, arms holding him propped up from behind as they caught his fall.
“To your feet,” an ominous, enveloping voice came from not the surroundings but within the mind of Zachary.
Zachary hesitated, paralyzed by the sheer size of this gargantuan creature. All was in shadow and amorphous at this moment as the spray of the lake loomed in the air, still falling to settle back from where it was dispersed. Then, Zachary stood.
“Who are you, what do you want,” Zachary yelled, attempting to consult this creature from the depths of the lake. Not fully expecting a reply because he did not grasp the reality of what had just happened, that voice in his head.
“Settle, mortal. Destruction is not of my volition—at this time,” Again Zachary was reaching for answers in how this creature, this monster was communicating with him. The lake’s mist had mostly settled, though the creature’s form was still not entirely clear to Zachary. Though, he could tell that this, thing, was not using its’ mouth, there was not enough shift in the shadow, this much Zachary could deduce.
“I..I…I am Zachary Xav-,” Zachary began to say shakily.
“I know you for whom you are and to where you will go. Be still, standfast, and I promise that my bark, while not worse than my bite, comes from a standing of peace,” The deep, echoing voice boomed in Zachary’s head again. “My identity, a name as your kind would call, is Litharis. You must traverse this land in search of thine own belonging, meaning. Time, what a fickle thing tis, will inevitably be against you, mortal. Make haste, return when you find your answers. Summon by my name, Litharis,” This voice grew longer and slower as it kept communicating with Zachary, as an old man would do if he were drifting into sleep.
Zachary was dumfounded, baffled, what did that creature, that monstrosity mean by their words. This question echoed over, and over, in Zachary’s mind. If he were to search out answers for something, he must first find what the question is, but with no sense of direction how could that even be possible. “This be pointless, ow can I answer a riddle wit’out knowin’ what the riddle be,” Zachary said aloud as he traversed the streets of Mosfell, the large city in which he called home. Strolling back to his quaint abode, Zachary felt a sense of nonsensical happenstance about the whole situation. Must have been the ale talking, or maybe he fell asleep aboard the boat and it was all just a dream. Only time could tell.
It had been a few weeks since that encounter but Zachary could not shake it from his head, “Return when you find your answers.” He kept repeating this statement over and over. Zachary was ruminating about it whilst walking to the pub for lunch. Then, he saw a short statured individual with all black clothing and cloak leaving from the backside of the pub. The individual was like water, genderless and fluid as they drifted in and out of small crowds of people and, just as fast as Zachary saw them appear, they vanished into the crowds. But, Zachary was not going to give up that easy. He began running toward the exit that the figure seemed to be heading toward, running, panting, trying desperately to catch up to this strange figure.
“Why am I the only ‘un ‘at can see these people,” He thought in a panting matter, as if he were saying it out loud whilst running.
Just as Zachary approached the gate he saw them, at least he thought he did. A shadowy, cloaked figure walking through the gates of Mosfell. Zachary took all the rest of what little energy he had and charged directly for this figure. He was running as quick and quiet as he possibly could to the “crook,” Zachary had thought to call them during the chase. Zachary sucked in a deep breath, planted his feet and jumped at the cloaked crook. The individual, unassuming, was knocked to the ground as they both rolled a few times on the dirt path just outside of Mosfell. Zachary was startled, shocked, as the figure rolled to where he could see their face.
“But, how?” Zachary asked the cloaked figure.