BENJI CLARK POV
The moon hung low, casting a sinister glow on the destroyed palace and its ruined garden. The scent of damp earth was thick as I stood alone, surrounded by makeshift graves. Memories of happier times taunted me as I glared up at the moon, seeking solace that remained elusive.
My gaze descended to the graves, anger coursing through my veins like a violent storm. The destruction, the betrayal by Joan, it all resounded within me. "I can't afford to be angry right now; I need to save it for later," I muttered through clenched teeth, my fist tight with restrained fury. Kneeling, I offered a prayer, a plea for guidance,
"In the silent embrace of this hallowed ground, my cherished family and loyal soldiers find serene rest, and may you find eternal peace."
Still looking down, the ache in my heart overwhelmed me. The chains I had built around my pain began snapping, one by one, tears streaming down my cheeks. Collapsing onto the cold ground, the weight of grief pressed upon me. In the night's darkness, I allowed myself to mourn, to feel the depths of sorrow that engulfed me.
Under the moonlight, sorrow transformed into a heavy fatigue. Overwhelmed, I lay on the ground, my eyelids heavy with the exhaustion of grief. In the shattered garden's quiet, my eyes closed.
I awoke to the feeling of cold raindrops, the dark sky matching my somber mood. Rising from the damp ground, I embraced the rain, washing away the remnants of my slumber. My tattered clothes offered no protection, and the cold rain stung my skin. Rushing into the palace, I sought warmth.
In my room, I scavenged for warm clothing in the wardrobe. Among the clothes, I found an old cloak I couldn't recall owning. Without thought, I draped it over me. Instantly, a cozy feeling enveloped me, a shield against the cold. I donned a waistcoat with faded designs, trousers, and worn leather boots.
Wrapped in this peculiar outfit, I welcomed the warmth amidst the gloom. I sat on my bed, pondering the path ahead. The persistent ache in my body reminded me of Joan's betrayal. Leaning against the headboard, fatigue enveloped me, and it dawned on me how hard I had pushed myself over the last two days.
In my battle against Joan, I faced death, emerging battered and broken. My once-thriving nation now lies in ruins, devoid of survivors. I buried my family and loyal guards. The sparse moment of rest I had was not enough to recover.
Once more, I surrendered my eyes to the embrace of darkness. Within the cocoon of rest, memories danced behind my closed lids—the haunting specter of destruction, the betrayal, and the image of makeshift graves etched against the canvas of my mind.
I awoke to claws scraping along the stone floor. Grogginess turned into alertness as the relentless scratching outside my bedroom door filled the room with tension. I got behind my bed, hoping to remain unnoticed. The scratching ceased, plunging my room into silence. A low growl echoed, and I peeked over my bed.
Bathed in moonlight, the monster emerged— with eyes reflecting malevolence like shards of ice, sharp teeth glinting in the shadows. Its grotesque form, marked by elongated limbs and matted fur, sent chills through my spine.
The monster sniffed the air, its breath visible in the cold, hanging like a fog. What was it? It's too big for a dog, too scary for comfort. The bodies outside were perfect for any starving monsters seeking a quick snack. I braced myself behind the bed, my heartbeat pounding in my ears.
In the darkness, my desperate fingers searched for a defensive tool. I discovered a wooden sword, a relic from my sword skills training. Nowhere to run and no place to hide, I resigned myself to confronting the monster head-on.
I sprang from behind the bed, hoping to catch the lurking monster off guard with a swift attack. Surprisingly, it proved more elusive than anticipated, effortlessly sidestepping my assault with an eerie grace. Adrenaline surged through my veins, a fiery current momentarily drowning out the throbbing pain from earlier wounds.
In response, the lurking monster roared a guttural and otherworldly sound that reverberated through the room. The malevolent gleam in its eyes intensified, the roar echoing its excitement at its newfound prey.
Fueled by a renewed surge of aggression, the monster charged at me with a speed that defied its grotesque form. Its wicked and razor-sharp claws swiped through the air with a menacing force. Although not exceptionally fast, the raw strength behind its attacks surpassed mine.
As the creature closed in, the air crackled with tension. I managed to dodge its initial onslaught, but the relentless monster persisted, taking a couple of swipes in quick succession. Each swipe carried a weight that echoed through my body, leaving me with the sting of pain and shallow wounds.
The wooden sword in my hand, worn and splintered from the relentless clashes, was rapidly losing its durability. Despite the impending doom, a spark of realization flickered in my mind – an opportunity.
As the monster lunged forward for another attack, I gauged the moment precisely. I directed the weakened sword against the monster's onslaught with a calculated swing. The timing was crucial. The wooden sword shattered into fragments at the height of the clash, leaving me with a makeshift dagger fashioned from its remains.
I seized the moment with the broken weapon now transformed into a jagged edge. In one fluid motion, I redirected the dagger toward the monster's chest, exploiting the vulnerability exposed by its aggressive charge. The room resonated with the creature's pained howl as my makeshift dagger found its mark, delivering a decisive blow to the monster's chest.
The monster collapsed, and a dark pool of blood spread around it. Before I could retrieve my weapon or examine the fallen monster, guttural roars erupted from the direction of the garden. The ominous sounds sent shivers down my spine, and the unmistakable scratching of several claws against the floor spurred me into action. Without a second thought, I burst out of my room and sprinted down the hall.
The panic fueled my search for a safe haven. The thought of my parents' bedroom crossed my mind, but I quickly dismissed it – their door wasn't secure enough. The palace vault seemed the only sanctuary against the monsters.
I raced towards the vault, down the hall, and through a flight of stairs. The metallic door stood slightly ajar, just enough for me to slip through. Gripping the inside handle, I attempted to close it behind me, but the weight proved overwhelming. The sounds of the approaching monsters intensified, urging me to muster every ounce of strength.
As the monsters descended the stairs, their presence looming closer, desperation fueled my efforts. With a final surge of strength, I barely closed the heavy door in the nick of time. The monsters banged against it, their roars reverberating through the vault. The metallic barrier held firm, providing a brief reprieve from the impending threat.
I breathed a sigh of relief and glanced around. The vault, however, told a different story. Shattered artifacts and remnants of the palace's treasures lay strewn across the floor. Joan must have taken everything of value before he left. I walked around, hoping to find another exit, but a peculiar glint caught my eye.
An intricate metal arm adorned with glowing ancient runes was nestled amidst the debris, partially concealed by the shattered artifacts. I picked it up and was surprised at how light it was; it felt almost weightless.
Holding the arm in my hand, I marveled at the craftsmanship. Detailed runes intricately adorned its surface, and the glow from the runes illuminated my surroundings, casting a surreal light on the remnants of the shattered artifacts in the vault.
'Put us on,'