['There are three things all wise men fear: the sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man.' ~ Patrick Rothfuss']
Once this room was sparkling clean and white. Thomas could never stand white as a color. He was all too keen to repaint the walls. Preferably with red. Red symbolizes power, energy, vitality. What he and the other children, his friends, in the room lacked in abundance. Like everyone in the room, Thomas couldn't stand most of them. Like everyone in the room, he preferred forced friendships to solitude.
Highs always follow lows; Thomas had heard. One of his many tasks finally allowed him to repaint the walls. Thomas does not remember the task, but the result never left his memory.
His goal of the red walls had failed. They were only stained red, like his hands. His goal to give his comrades the necessary power, energy, and vitality had failed. He had taken the last bit they had. His aim to please the man in gold had failed. In addition to contempt, he only received some last words. "You, Prophet No. 23, have failed the holy trial. Now dismiss." The person wasn't much taller than Thomas was. And yet he seemed so tall that Thomas could never ever look at his face. As if he was standing before Mount Everest. He was an insect before a Giant. Not threatened to be crushed but being never even once noted and acknowledged.
He also received a feeling, albeit unwanted, that never left him like the result. Deep hatred.
...
This time he could very well look the person in front of him in the face. The sight made Thomas wish that this would not be the case. Just like the feeling of being noticed; Before one is finally wiped out.
Adrenaline flooded Thomas's system, pumping and beating like it's trying to escape. His heart pounded repeatedly against his chest. Like a battering ram in front of your own gates that doesn't try to get in but to get out. His body wanted to run fast, but instead remained where he was. Motionless and quiet like a sheep pretending to be dead.
He commanded himself over and over again. please. Please. Please! Unsure whether he was pleading for survival or a quick death. Maybe this one could wake him up from this nightmare.
Then, with a loud creak, the door opened. Freeing Thomas from the man's glance.
"What do you want!" The man screamed at this grotesque creature. He seemed to be the human-sized version of the giantess on the beach, only with more warts. He was the one who bowed earlier
"I am sorry to disturb, Godfather. But I have brought what you wanted." He said as presented a fist-sized metal container with 5 sharp, syringe-like hooks and a black liquid sealed inside on a platter.
"Oh, nice." His voice radiated anticipation. Thomas barely watched the scene not knowing where the anticipation came from and where the anger had gone. One way or another, he was busy gasping for air and trying not to fall into his own puddle of spit.
"Where is the rest, Asteroth?" Godfather asked. Asteroth felt the question down to the bone marrow. To him, the question meant failure. As if electrified, he began to bow several times. "I'm deeply sorry my lord." "It's okay." "No, after this grave mistake, I am not worthy of serving you. My mind is not even worth existing beside yours my lord. I deserve the death sentence." "It's okay, Asteroth." "Ah! I ordered something to the majesty. My tongue, no, my whole head should roll on the floor. I only deserve eternal damnation." "Just leave." "As you wish my king." He left with his head constantly bowed.
Thomas heard the jingling gold approach again. He wanted to raise his head, yet he only found the strength to stare at the cold ground. Something whizzed through his sight; The metal container with its 5 hooks aimed at Thomas's chest. In a fraction of a second, he saw the thin, blood-rusted hooks which shimmered on the ground, and somehow Thomas knew they were sharper than any razor. As quickly as the thing disappeared from his sight again, as slowly he felt the hooks penetrate his chest. But the pain he didn't feel until a few seconds afterward. Then it got quick. The pain kicked in, he panicked, sensed a burning, searing pain, then it got freezy with cold sweat from Adrenalin. The pain was not at the puncture sites, but all over the chest. As if a gorilla had hit him with such force that each of his ribs splintered and stabbed his body.
And then he felt well being. As if the pain was nothing but an alarm clock that forced him to wake up only to find out that everything was okay. The pain of his nightmare vanished, replaced by the warm rays of the morning sun. Of course, he still felt a little stiff, but not to an extent that a little stretching couldn't solve.
Then Godfather's face reappeared before his eyes. "How do you feel, my little sheep?" He asked while his eyebrows leaped.
Thomas wanted to ask what in the world was going on here. but the courage to do so had long left him. Maybe he had just learned something too. Don't bother if you don't have the strength to win the fight.
"I... I feel alright."
"And the thing."
The words that lay on his lips surprised Thomas himself. What he felt was familiarity. "It.. It feels familiar. Like a new but at the same time old part of myself." What on earth was attached to him? He asked himself. Godfather seemed to be able to read the unspoken question on Thomas's face. "Oh, you will find out very soon." There was that huge amount of anticipation again.
A growl passed the closed doors. "In fact, you will find it out now." His grin was almost too big to find room on his face.
The noise behind the doors made Thomas take a closer look. Horrified he noticed that the doors were ceiling-high, although everyone who had entered the room was not much taller or shorter than he was. Hopefully whatever was behind the door didn't have to make use of the height.
Highs follow lows. Lows follow highs.
The doors opened. A loud creak paved his way. Fortunately for Thomas, it was a cage, barely carried by 4 stone wheels, that made use of the height. Unfortunately for Thomas, was the resident of the cage not much smaller.
A legendary creature. Some argue that it was born on the moon; Selene, the goddess of the moon, threw it on Earth from despair. It once ravaged the area of Nemea withering the herds and after devouring a couple of men it developed a taste for humans. It is said that no weapon can cut through its impenetrable skin and its claws can cut through any material as if it is butter. Everyone who crossed his path met death soon after. He is the son of the monstrous Typhon and the malignant Echidna. The Nemean Lion.
Thomas couldn't comprehend. The throne room was unseemingly long, wide, and high. "So why... why am I feeling so cornered?" He asked himself. So scared that even the voice in his head could barely utter his thoughts. When the mighty lion let out a thunderous roar, he nearly pissed himself. Unable to realize that the roar was nothing else than a cry for help.
Thomas's fear made him blind. The lion was well past its prime and was closer to death than life. He was bleeding all over his body so incessantly that the bars on his cage began to rust from his blood alone a long time ago. Creeping and foaming were the only things he could still do. He was missing a paw.
The missing paw landed before Thomas's feet. It was the size of his chest. "Kill him." "What?" "He is barely alive and in front of you is the only thing capable of piercing his skin. My son was able to do it, and so should you, if you want to survive", Godfather stressed while tapping the ashes of his cigar. Thomas understood. It was Do or Die. He picked up the claw. Slowly and hesitantly he approached the cage.
Fin.