The wall shrooms are shaped like little flat rocks. They’re all so beautiful. They have existed my entire life, and to think my eyes would have never fallen on them if not for the tragedy that I find myself in now.
I lie down on the stiff pallet thankful I’m not spending the night out there in the Outlands. This isn’t so bad, it’s pretty amazing actually. Kalli would have loved this place, this magical underworld.
My eyes grow heavy as I try to get comfortable in my new bed. Memories of her race through my mind until I fall asleep in the mystical ambiance of Elysium.
“Palin, wake up,” a whisper echoes.
My eyes cut open to find myself on the peak of a volcanic mountaintop. Ash and soot burn in the air around me. It’s impossible to breathe. A pool of lava boils just meters away. The colossal clouds of smoke streaming from the surface of the lava scar the sky a dark shade of orange.
“Wake up, Palin.”
I frantically turn around searching for her voice, drawn to it. I know it’s her.
She is sitting directly behind me, inches from me.
Her legs are crossed and her head’s down. She’s filthy, covered with ash. Her long hair is draped over her face, distorted in the heat.
“What’s happened to you?” I ask noticing her barefoot. “It’s me, Kalli. I’m here.”
Shrouded from under her hair, she repeats, “Wake up, Palin.”
“I’m awake! I’m right here.”
What’s wrong with her? What have they done?
She reaches under her curls for the skin around her neck. She claws, driving her nails into her flesh, pulling harder, deeper, until her skin rips open gushing with blood. Her skin stretches further, like melting plastic as it separates from her face.
She opens her dead eyes, parting her hair on both sides of her face. Blood pouring from her neck. Her smile is cold and emotionless.
I crawl backward, trying desperately to escape what my eye won’t stop watching.
She pulls harder.
The skin from her face is detaching.
She smiles and repeats her request. “Wake up, Palin.”
“Kalli stop! Please!!”
I grab her arms, but she pulls harder. Still wearing that same creepy smile. More skin on her face tears. Her cold eyes turn from crimson to sapphire. Bloody and torn pieces of flesh dangle from her exposed skull now crackling with electricity.
“Wake up, Palin. Wake up,” she repeats without blinking.
I can’t move. Tears stream down my face.
“Stop! Please, just make it stop!” I close my eyes, covering my head with my arms. “Stop! Stop! Please!”
Suddenly, everything is quiet.
The smell of sulfur no longer lingers. The roars of the volcano are extinguished as if some miracle occurred on the other side of my palms without me even noticing. Unwillingly, I peek from around the bunker of my fingers. All is black.
“Wake up, Palin. Get the fuck up!”
I blink, and I’m somewhere else. Teleported to a place where people are screaming like psychos on all sides of me. The thirst in their wild eyes, unquenched.
A thousand grains of black sand roll across the back of my hands as I push myself up off the ground.
The cheering intensifies.
A curved wall glows blue with bioluminescent graffiti. I use it to orientate, helplessly trying to find myself in the darkness. At least two stories tall, made from trash pieces and scrap metal, the wall circles around me in this dark dungeon.
Something is coming towards me.
In vain I look for an escape. Instead, my eyes find a double-edged sword lying half-buried in the sand next to my feet, as I attempt to take a breath that’s not there.
“Get up and fight him!” shouts Cyrus from the pit wall behind me.
Ice surges into my veins.
It must’ve happened again. Reborn dues coming to collect, and their timing couldn’t be worse.
I snatch the sword out of the sand and face the shadow stalking me. My knuckles turn white. My legs slow.
Leon emerges from the dark of the pit. He towers over me, staring like I was the sum of all his suffering. Silently, he points his sharpened staff at me. The crowd goes wild. Like white noise, they move as the fires from the torches throw chaotic shadows against the dome ceiling.
Leon’s big, but even he has a weakness, and he’s the only thing standing in my way. Everything I’ve ever lived for comes down to this very moment. This mother fucker is going to die today. He asked for it.
Like I’ve rehearsed this moment my entire life, I swing my blade, backhanding his spear away, driving my sword straight into his heart.
He rolls to the side, effortlessly dodging my strike. The expression on his face fazes from anger to a smile before he stabs his spear inches from my skull. Close miss.
Like a machine, he retracts his weapon and strikes again with full force.
My sword meets his spear. Both weapons ricochet with sparks.
With both hands lifted over his head, he slams his spear, tip first, into the sand nearly piercing me.
Immediately, I lunge at him. My blade grazes his side, drawing blood. The crowd falls silent with shock.
He hesitates and looks down at his wound. A mixture of confusion and admiration captures his expression.
I waste no time before striking again.
He easily blocks with a one-handed swing of his sharpened metal staff.
He returns fire, swinging at me again and again; each blow with more power than the last until my final attempt to block rips the sword from my quivering hands.
I’m unarmed and cornered. He no longer looks amused.
Racing for my blade, he steps forward and puts his foot into my chest sending me crashing into the pit wall.
I hit the ground hard as shockwaves pulse through me. My breath, stolen again.
He walks closer. Activating his weapon, purple electricity flows towards the peak of the
