~A few hours later~

“Argh, ya bitch” Peter shouted as Brair slammed the back of her head into his nose. Blood began to trickle down, but the fast winds pulled it to the sides in form of a thin bloody mustache. “It better be worth all this!”

Peter ducked his head behind Brair’s shoulder and began to wipe it with the dirty leather while keeping a vice grip of Brair’s hands behind her back. It was the only thing he could do to prevent her from grabbing him and making his her next meal.

Since he was travelling at such speeds that the winds whistled in his ears, Peter had to duck multiple times behind her frame to catch his breath. As the winds carried them past the darkness and into a true blue sky that Peter, for the first time, noticed how strange it looked considering he was going east.

‘Volvo said most of Ansdrovea was grassy hills and forests,’ he thought. ‘So why are there so many rocks?’

A cavalcade of rocks was beneath them; slowly increasing in size the further they went. Peter could see a range of mountains approaching them and, quite in his right, panicked when he felt the winds slow down.

“Shit! Not now,” he yelled. “Higher, c’mon higher! Dammit, what’d she say...Altior. Huh? Altior Altior Altior…WHY IS NOTHING HAPPENING?”

‘Why did it work with Natravi?’ he thought.

Peter almost lost his grip on Brair’s hands but the rigourous wiggling and scratches were able to pull him back to reality. The closer he approached the mountain, the more he began speculating which edge or rock he would be flattened against. He braced himself as he laid himself almost completely behind her body.

“God, if there’s a god, if you’re watching down on me, if you think I deserve a second chance…help, please,” Peter whispered. He was only a hundred meters away from the wall of the mountain when he laid his head against the back of Brair’s and thought of the best moments in his life. Everything seemed to slow down after that.

…………………A few years ago…………………..

‘This was such a stupid plan’ he thought. ‘Hiding from a stronger opponent isn’t cowardice, it’s instincts. I’m not a coward.’

Hanging behind the jagged rocks of a nameless cavern Peter could hear the cries of his fellows, his friends fighting for their lives against an enemy he knew was too much for them.

‘I told Volvo. I told him the Liche was too powerful for us,’ tears began to well up, blurring his vision. ‘He just had to show off infront of that noble bastard. I told him to turn down that fucking contract and now everyone’s gonna die because of it. Can’t they see they’re gonna lose? Hide you idiots!’

He’d fought with them for almost half an hour, breaking the skeletons and decapitating those still carrying their skin. His sword was chiped and his shield lost, only Volvo still had all his equipment completely intact, despite taking the lead. When it looked like they couldn’t win he tried to argue that they should run but they didn’t listen, they never did. He’d reached only walkway to the exit when the attack from the Liche sent him flying over and off the cliff.

Fortunately, he’d grabbed the edges of the rocks and stuck himself along cliff edge. The battle raged above him while he cowardly waited for it all to end. Below him a small stream ran by, but the fall was too large and the stream too narrow to risk anything. He wanted it all to end so the Liche would leave them alone, why wouldn’t they listen to him?!

His team was cornered at the edge and their cries reverberated through the cavern. Images of bloody bodies bend and twisted in unnatural angles, their souless eyes and pleas plagued his mind. They were outmatched from the start; they knew nothing of what lay in the cavern except for the Liche and they weren’t familiar with the place. They should’ve brought more, they should’ve-they should’ve turned down his request. They had the chance!

*Fwoosh*

A thread of orange suddenly glowed beside him and only because of his instincts was he able to escape the fire that only moments later consumed the rocks beside him. ‘Gotta move’ following that thought he made his way around the side of the cliff he had latched onto.

‘One rock, two rock, 3-4 rock, c’mon Petey boy, you can survive, you always do.’

He was able to climb across to the other side almost opposite to where the Liche had cornered the others and once again considered running. There was nothing he could do so why try. His sword was lost, his shield too far for him to get and his team running on their last legs. He was fast, he could escape and get help before the day was out, yes, he could do that. He would do that.

“Volvo, how do we do this?” he heard Luvrit ask. The cavern bounced his voice over the crackling of fire around the stage.

“Get Fliss close enough,” the man yelled. “We’re supposed to douse it with the phial we got from those UNASA guys.”

He could hear it all as he climbed up he peaked over the ledge just in time to see the orange thread graze over the rocks just a few feet away from his fingers. From where he was he could see it run around sides of their stage and he knew that when it joined up with its other end the whole place will be engulfed in fire.

“Now!”Volvo said as he pushed Fliss forward before joining Luvrit in kneeling behind their shields. Peter saw Fliss trip, FUCKING trip over a CRACK in the stone, before the whole place was engulfed in flames. He jumped down to the lower level of rocks as the flames expanded out, sending dust and debris his way.

“Ahhh!” that accursed girly shriek soon followed. He was getting ready to climb again when he saw Fliss flying off the edge. His eyes widened and his heartbeat quickened as he saw the boy fall into the chasm below. Time seemed to slow down and he saw the boy’s look of horror morph to a mixture of many emotions before they faded to unconsciousness under the orange hue of the flames. Peter’s body moved on its own before he could make sense of it all. His hand missed grabbing his shoulder, but not his elbow. His fingers dug into the rocks he was holding and his nails pushed into his skin, breaking in the worst way, to keep the jerk of the boy’s added weight under control.

“Argh,” he growled and bit down on the pain. Blood trickled over the rock and down the sides of his mouth as he pulled Fliss up into a hug. It hurt, the soles of his feet tickled almost as if they were about to let go but he held on.

“Its okay kid, everything’s gonna be alright.”

Peter looked down and saw the boys face; bloody, ashen and unconscious. His only saving grace was that he was able to notice the slight rise and fall from his chest.

‘They’ll lose if I leave…I don’t them to die,’ Peter shook his head. ‘That thing doesn’t know I’m alive, I can do this.’

Pulling Fliss along with himself up the ledge Peter was relieved to find that the Liche hadn’t noticed them yet. He searched the boy and found the crackled phial tightly gripped in his hands. Wrestling it lose Peter stood up and slowly approached the monster. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, his hands felt weak but one look to his oldest friend, that rare and ugly look of desperation, gave him enough courage to march a few more steps forward and throw the thing at the back of the unsuspecting undead.

“YEEE!” The creature screeched to the heavens as the liquid began melting its shoulders. Its arms fell off first, then followed the ribcage and that completely melted into a weird liquid. The legs were the only thing left standing as its head fell between them.

Peter didn’t feel smug, nor did he feel prideful as he looked at their shocked expressions. He felt ashamed and angry. Angry at the undead who made him run away. He marched up to it and sent another leg between the two, smashing the skull to smitherines.

He was huffing and sweating profusely as he looked up to meet Volvo and Luvrit’s eyes. Shame set ablaze to his ears as tears threatened to break out. The sudden coughinh from behind him was a welcome distraction. Racing to him Peter helped the boy sit up, asking stupid things like where it hurt and if he was okay.

He didn’t want to face the two approaching figures behind him.

“Peter? You came back,” Fliss’s cracked voice, his beaten face and his own fear sent him tumbling. He held the boy close as he assured him of his safety, hugging him tightly. Luckily Fliss didn’t question it and held on just as tightly, sobbing into dirty coif so that it disguised his own grief.

Peter felt a hand squeeze his shoulder and looking up saw Volvo’s face, illuminated in the torches light. He smirked down at him and Peter felt his stomach twist at the next words.

“Welcome back to the family son”

………………..Back to the present………….

“Goodbye, everyone” Peter whispered with a smirk. He laid his head again Brair one last time and awaited death.