In the Royal Palace, the air was cold and biting. It had started with the snow. It got harsher and harder to see through in the weeks following its arrival. By then, even the dogs were beginning to look tired. The guards who guarded the palace gates had long since given up on keeping their post warm. Winter was upon them before they knew it.
The weather did not help the people who worked within the walls or in the gardens. As a result, all the staff was forced indoors to prevent further illness. This included most servants who worked inside the walls, as well as those working outside. The castle staff was tasked with caring for everything from the animals to the plants themselves. They could do little about what happened at home, however. The tranquility in the palace is a stark contrast to the war-torn countryside, and the King has kept the media quiet about the conflict to the north. So far as anyone knows, the kingdom is still at peace.
Today is no exception, except for one thing.
A small boy in his mid-teens sits on a stone bench by the castle gate. He does not notice the light snowfall or how the clouds drift lazily past the sun. He cannot hear the birds singing since there are almost no more birds around. The eternal European winter has made life unbearably hard. He shivers despite wearing thick woolen clothes that protect him somewhat. The young man lets out a weary sigh, wishing things were different. His eyes are glued to a newspaper that rests at his feet.
He sees nothing but a headline that reads, "Hawk and Tiger Fights over Land Rights!" A few moments pass without the young man reading anything more. Like every other day of the week, he feels empty inside, his only company being his thoughts.
This particular Monday is also one that he wishes would never come.
Suddenly, a bright light shines above him, causing him to look up—a round halo with wings pointing up and another pair of wings pointing down. The wings are dotted with a dozen eyes eerily staring at him. Even the halo has teeth, which seem almost demonic in appearance, making it appear more frightening than it already appears. The boy flinches and begins to back away, his legs hitting something behind him.
The curb makes him trip. The imposing monster in front of him silently hums, and suddenly he is transported to a floating rock somewhere in the sky. He looks around frantically until he spots something else. Next to where he stands is another figure, much like himself.
They both watch each other warily. The two children stare at each other. Neither speaks. The older child slowly raises his hand toward the older boy's face. "I pity you and all of the people just like you. The suffering of your nation is very profound. I want to give you a little bit of power." the ethereal being says.
The younger boy stares at it wide-eyed. The words are spoken slowly but clearly, so he understands. Then, with one last smile and a wink, the entity disappears. The ground beneath the younger boy crumbles into the dirt, revealing a space. The boy floats in free play. The feeling is unlike any sensation he has ever felt. It feels... nice. Safe.
"I've given you the power to open portals to places near, not far." the entity says. "Now go. Use it." And with those final words, the portal closes.
The elder boy watches as the child disappears. He smiles. He knows where the child will go. He'll meet someone who can change him. Then finally, the world can come into equilibrium.
The kid is sent back to the earth, into the streets of London. The kid is confused; he doesn't know what to do with this power. The kid walks around the square, spotting a battalion of soldiers. Their uniforms, rifles, and flags captivated him.
The boy decides to go to the nearest building and ask for assistance. "Excuse me," he asks a soldier. "Do you know if there is an orphanage close by?"
The soldier, a tall man, nods with a sympathetic smile. "Yes, we have one here. Do you need us to take you there?"
But before he could reply, a man grabbed him. "I'm sorry, sir, this is my son; I'm taking him home." the man says. The soldier sighs and lets them go. As the man carries the kid away, he's struggling as he's being brought out. Eventually, he loses consciousness.
When he awakens, he's lying on his cot. The room is dark save for a faint flickering candle next to him. He takes a deep breath. There's been… something. Something different from the usual events.
His dream felt strange. He couldn't describe it, but it certainly didn't feel good.
There's movement at his side. The man from earlier is standing over him. "Wake up! You're ruining my business. You should be grateful that there's people to play with you, or else I've already sold you!" the man says, kicking the kid. The kid whimpers softly. His whole body is sore from the abuse.
"Hey, shut up! No yelling, you brat. Just because you're lucky enough to wake up alive doesn't mean you deserve to be awake. I've seen kids like you. All you care about is sleeping and playing with dolls. You don't understand how cruel this world is yet." the man spits. The 'Father' then opens the door, letting strangers file into the tiny house. These strange people bring alcohol and drugs as they hand in their money.
The Father takes the coins with a smug grin, counting and sorting.
The father throws a bottle of beer on his lap. The boy grimaces and tries to move farther away, but the hand grabs his hair.
He screams when pain lances across his scalp.
The father laughs heartily, watching the blood drip onto the floor. "What a pretty face! If your mom could take our games, you'd be worth a fortune. Your skin is so soft!" the father exclaims.
Another slap hits him across his face. He screams again. "Shut up! Who cares? She's dead! Stop crying! Look at you, trying to act tough like your mama when you're practically helpless!" the Father shouts. He then pulls him up roughly by his hair. "Don't worry, kid. Maybe tomorrow I'll take you out. We'll have fun. Just like the rest of the brats." He then releases the child's hair and kicks him. The child falls forward and groans. He crawls away in fear.
"What are you going to do to me?" the Kid says in a trembling voice.
The strangers sneer. "We're going to have fun."
Hours passed, and the kid was thrown off to the streets, his body aching. He was filthy, hungry, and scared. Tears fall from the Kid's eyes as he sits against the wall. Suddenly a bright light shines in front of him, and the sound of sparks can be heard. The lights start moving, forming shapes and images. It seems to be some portal. When the light fades, an unfamiliar sight reaches the boy. Instead of the humming city of London with its bizarre architecture and landscapes, he sees a frozen field. The boy is lying amidst a pile of snow. He's freezing and shivering uncontrollably. His clothes stick to his thin frame as he shivers in the cold. He feels hopeless and alone.
All of a sudden, a figure emerges from the snow. "Are you all right? Are you hurt? What happened to you?" a muscular onyx-colored man stands before him, covered in thick linen clothing. He crouches down next to the child and picks him up.
"Where am I…." The kid mutters.
The person holds him under one arm and wraps the blanket around the child. With a sigh, he puts him down on the ground. "My name is Cliff. Please wait right here." the man scurries off into the distance. The kid blinks and watches him leave. His vision starts spinning, and his head starts to pound painfully. He leans against the tree behind him and clutches his head. Slowly, a familiar sensation settles into his bones, and soon he feels a warm heat spreading throughout his body. He feels better, even though he's cold.
The first thing he sees when he wakes up is a fireplace. The flames crackle gently while the smoke rises through the chimney. He looks around the cozy living room filled with many chairs, couches, and lamps. He sees bookshelves stuffed full of books and knick-knacks. The bookcase itself is adorned with various pictures and paintings of beautiful landscapes. The door opens, and the onyx man from a while back enters with what looks like a dead boar. A wolf also follows him into the small wooden cabin before he closes the door, shutting out the cold winds from the outside. The man places the slain game on the stone fireplace and sits next to it. He gives the boy a curious look. The child glances up at the man.
Cliff nods with a serious face. "Little girl. Go get yourself dressed properly," he says, bringing him clothes. He tries to open his mouth to speak, but no words come out. He coughs weakly, struggling to keep his breathing steady.
The man looks at him with concerned eyes. "Take your time," he says.
The child does manage to push himself up and stumble around the corner, heading for a nearby bathroom. Once inside, the child locks the doors and sinks into the water in the barrel. The water is freezing. The kid is still shivering from the icy temperature. After a few minutes, his hands stop shaking. His breathing returns to normal, and his wounds heal.
He dries himself and slips on the skirt. They fit pretty well. The kid quickly pulls on a frilly red shirt and black shoes. He walks out of the room and looks around cautiously.
Cliff grunts, gesturing him to the little wooden table just a little farther away from the fireplace. He sits down obediently as the man starts to cook in his kitchenette.
When the food is done, Cliff pours two cups of hot tea and pushes one toward the boy. "Drink," he orders as he slides the other cup to the opposite chair.
The kid warily sips at the steaming beverage, relishing the warmth. He notices that it tastes like… honey? "What is this? Where did you find it?" he finally asks a question. The man chuckles. "Here in my country," he says.
He smiles and takes another sip from his cup. He notices that the mug has been decorated with intricate carvings. "So, what was a little girl like you doing all alone in a Scottish field?" he asks. "I don't know, Mr. Cliff." The kid replies.
Cliff smirks. "Well now, let's see if the answer is that simple… How old are you?" he asks. The kid pauses for a few seconds as if thinking hard. Finally, he answers: "Fourteen."
"Poor child." the man says monotonously. "Do you want to study?" he adds.
The kid shakes his head. "No."
"That's okay. Why don't you stay here and live with me?"
The boy furrows his brow. "Live here?" he questions. "With you? Don't you have other children to take care of?"
Cliff shrugs. "You help me take care of them. I'll be busy with work."
"Oh," the boy replies. "Okay."
Cliff looks at him. "It'll be great, trust me. Come on, drink up." He points to the cup.
Reluctantly, the boy finishes his tea.
"Come on, let's go." The man offers his hand to the boy.
They walk for half an hour until they reach a small city. The wooden walls are almost five meters tall, and the buildings are made entirely of wood. People everywhere walk around, wearing colorful robes, carrying large bags, and looking excited to be in the city.
The boy looks around curiously. "This town seems quite nice. What are these people?" he asks.
The man looks confused. "These are Scots... you aren't from here, are you?" he says in almost a whisper. The kid shakes his head and keeps looking around.
After wandering for longer, the man suddenly stops in front of a building resembling a fortress with clear glass windows. With large bronze letters above the entrance.
GRAVEYARD OF THE KIN
The man raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Is this yours?" he asks.
The boy stares blankly at the building before turning and pointing at a large white stone monument. A single stone angel stands proudly upon the pedestal.
Suddenly, a hologram appears in the air before them. It depicts a giant man with huge muscles standing next to an equally large woman. He has long, flowing, dark brown, curly hair. The two are holding their baby.
******
The boy accompanies Cliff around town. There are a few black people like him, but they're a rare sight in this wooden city. Occasionally, someone will stare at him from a far distance. Some even approach him for conversation. The child is frightened but eventually realizes he should smile and nod. In any case, the only natural source of warmth is Cliff, who always wears a stern expression whenever someone asks him about his home life. They walk into a local market. The lights are flickering and flickering endlessly. The walls are covered with brightly painted paintings of famous landmarks. Most of them seem to show some animal. Animals are running; dogs are jumping; goats are playing; sheep, chickens, and cows are. One painting depicted a man sitting on a throne surrounded by clouds. The people chat mildly as they make their way to a fish stall. "Hey, Mr. Dokubo!" a pasty white fisherman greets Cliff. "How's the sea today?"