Perry dreamt of an endless stretch of tall grass that swayed gently in the wind.
A mountain loomed in the far away distance, dark and foreboding. At its base, almost as if hugging it, immense stone ruins rose from the ground.
To him, they looked almost like grasping fingers, trying desperately to reach the heavens.
Perry squinted, trying to make out any details, but he was too far away. He'd have to get closer and—
"You have finally been found."
Perry turned at the sound of the unknown voice. Behind him, a figure clad in yellow, their face completely hidden under a hood, stood with their hands clasped behind their back.
Perry opened his mouth but found that he couldn't speak. A breeze swept through the grass, carrying a sound that almost sounded like words he understood. Or thought he understood. He glanced around and then back at the figure.
"You do not belong here," they said. "Not yet. Here we lay, the forgotten. You are simply lost."
Perry opened his mouth to speak again, but thunder exploded in the sky, almost as if the heavens had been cracked open. Perry glanced up at they gray clouds and when he looked back down, the figure was gone.
Darkness filled the sky and surrounded him, enveloping him completely until Perry lost all sense of himself.
***
Someone slapped his face.
"Hey! Hey!" Another slap. "Wake up."
"Is he even alive?"
"Doesn't matter. We take him if he alive or dead."
"No, no. Master said not dead. Not dead! We need alive!"
"Hey!" The third slap made him wince and flinch away. "Ha! Alive. Take him."
Rough hands seized Perry's arms and legs, lifting him from the ground as if he weighted nothing. His head throbbed, and the world spun as they carried him. The smell hit him first – unwashed bodies, stale sweat, and something metallic that might have been blood. His stomach lurched as they tossed him onto a wooden surface.
He landed hard on his side, splintered boards digging into his palms and arms. Before he could recover, someone grabbed his wrists, fastening heavy iron shackles around them. The metal was cold and rust-rough against his skin.
Perry tried to sit up, his vision swimming into focus. He was in some kind of covered cart, though 'cart' wasn't the right word for what was essentially a wooden box. Thin shafts of light filtered in through gaps in the planks, barely illuminating the people crowding in around him.
An elbow dug into his side and he shifted to try and make room, but a foot kicked his leg away. The air around him was stifling and claustrophobic.
He blinked repeatedly, straightening himself as best he could in the confined space. In the poor light, he could make out some of the faces that around him.
Men and women of different ages, all wearing torn and stained clothes that looked like they'd been stolen from the set of some kind of historical play. Their faces were gaunt, eyes wide in fear.
"Where..." Perry's voice came out as a croak. He swallowed and tried again. "Where are we?"
A woman across from him just shook her head, while an old man muttered something that sounded like a curse. The wooden box lurched forward, making Perry grab at the nearest surface for balance. His palm came away sticky with something he didn't want to identify.
So this was a cart of some kind and he had been trapped in here with these people. For some reason.
"Please," Perry tried again, coughing to try and clear the dryness in his throat. "I don't know where I am. What… what is this?"
He raised his hands to indicate their surroundings. The metal links of the shackles around his wrists clinked and made his stomach clench.
The woman across from him just shook her head again. He opened his mouth to repeat the question, but someone cut him off.
"The Northern Road," a young voice whispered. Perry turned to see a boy, maybe ten or twelve, huddled in the corner. "They are taking us to the Temple of The Crimson Star."
"Shut your mouth, boy," an elderly woman to Perry's right hissed. "Don't make it worse for us."
"Why?" Perry asked. "What's at this temple?"
The boy's eyes were wide in the dim light. "The sacrifice, of course. They need twelve for the ritual, and you make—"
"Wait, wait. Sorry. Excuse me, what do you mean by sacrifice?"
"The Crimson Star Lords must feed," the boy continued, ignoring the elderly woman's attempts to shush him. "They take our essence, our life force, and use it to—"
The cart rocked violently, cutting the boy off. The movement slammed Perry's shoulder into the side of the cart and he let out a pained groan that was quickly swallowed up by the surprised gasps and exclamations coming from the others.
Shouting came from outside, followed by the clash of metal on metal. Voices rose and fell. More shouts. A high-pitched screech was cut off by a wet, gurgling sound. He scrambled to his knees, ignoring the wood scrapped his skin even through his jeans, and pressed his eye to one of the larger cracks in the wood.
What he saw made Perry question his sanity a bit.
Figures in light robes whirled through his limited field of vision, their swords and weapons slashing through the air as they fought people dressed in leather armor. But it wasn't just swords or weapons they were using – streams of blue and white light shot out of their fingertips. One blast hit the cart, making the whole structure shake and groan.
The movement made Perry stumble back and land on someone. "Sorry, sorry," he exclaimed as he tried to shift back to his original position and see what was happening outside.
"Fire!" someone screamed. "The cart is on fire!"
Smoke quickly filled the inside of the small space. Perry glanced desperately around, trying to find a way out of this impossible situation.
Heat spread above them as the wooden roof caught on fire. More smoke seeped through the cracks, making Perry's eyes water and his lungs burn. The other prisoners began to panic, pressing against the walls, rattling their chains uselessly.
Perry looked at the door. It was old wood, probably rotted. They'd die either way – fire or smoke would take them all out if they stayed put. At least trying to escape gave them a chance.
"Help me!" He shouted, pulling his legs back. "We have to break it down!"
"Are you mad?" The elderly woman demanded. "They'll kill us!"
"We're dead if we stay here." Perry kicked the door hard. Pain shot through his feet, but he felt the wood give slightly. "We either burn or we can run. Your choice."
"I'd rather burn," the elderly woman said between coughs, tears streaming down her face. "It's a clean death, better than what they'll do if we run and they catch us."
"Then don't let them catch you," Perry exclaimed as he kicked the door as hard as he could.
Most people tried to move away from him, but some moved closer.
"I will help you," the kid who'd answered him earlier said and squeezed in next to Perry.
Other s joined them and they kicked and threw their weight against the door. The wood splintered, then cracked, and finally gave way entirely.
Perry tumbled out into chaos. The evening air was thick with smoke and shouts. Men and women swirled, kicked, and slashed with swords and axes. Others stood further back, moving their hands and making intricate gestures that sent bolts of different colors flying through the air.
"I need to stop drinking the coffee from work," Perry muttered, staring at a man who had just conjured a whip of pure light from his left hand. "Someone definitely drugged me."
An explosion close by flung him back. When he looked up, most of his fellow prisoners had already scattered into the forest surrounding them. The cart behind him was fully engulfed in flames now, casting everything into an orange glow.
Perry scrambled to his feet, at a loss of where to go next. His throat was dry and his eyes watered. The smoke seemed to be everywhere.
"This way." A small hand grabbed him by the arm and pulled. "You said not to let them catch us."
It was the boy from the cart. Feeling completely lost, Perry let himself be dragged away.
He could either stay there and find out exactly why they wanted to sacrifice him to whatever a Crimson Star Lord was, or he could let himself be dragged into an unknown forest by an unknown child.
Neither option was particularly appealing.