Tales Of The Arter Gems: Episode III: The Chosen One

By Mario Walsh

Jump inside the head of Syra, an eighteen year old girl from West Auckland, New Zealand, who begins her studies at university. On her first day, she reluctantly takes a blood test, which leads her to investigate further; she stumbles across a portal to another world. With her best friend Vetor, they meet a Time Guardian named Modnar, who claims to have watched over Syra her whole life. She discovers that it was her destiny to find this world all along....

Find out what happens in Episode III: The Chosen One, the first book (to be released) in the Tales Of The Arter Gem series... a ten book saga.

Now, the Tales of the Arter Gems series can actually be read in two different ways.
You can read them chronologically - Start with Episode I, and finish with Episode V.
Or, you can read them in the following order - Episode III, IV, V, II then finish with Episode I. Think of it as a map. I've given you the locations to explore and your finishing point - it's up to you as the reader as to where you start your journey.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mario Walsh
• Release date: Aug 13, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301383924

Mario Walsh

Firstly, thank you for supporting my Seven novels; Episode III, Episode IV, Episode V, Episode II, I, VI and recently The Chiller. A lot of hard work and time has gone into this story. I've been working on this series since September 2007, and have released Episode III first as I feel it was necessary to tell Syra's story first. The order that I will release the series is Episode III, IV, V, and then Episode II, followed by I and VI: Prologue. Now that all five are available, you can read them in chronological order as well. Episode VI: Epilogue will be released afterwards.A bit about meI'm a 39 year old author from West Auckland, New Zealand. I love action and Science Fiction - especially time travel. This series is my attempt of merging both these loves into one.My father introduced me to the 'Back to the Future' trilogy at age 6, so since then I've always been pretty obsessed with Time travel.If you have any questions about my series, like my facebook page and ask anything you like, i'd be happy to answer.One last thing. My book has a lot of violence in it, which does not mean that I condone it in the real world. You see, I dissect a scene in my head and describe it on paper how I see it. It's just how I have always been; I love vivid detail, and want to reader to be able to see what unfolded in my head as I wrote it.Again, a big thank you from the bottom of my heart. Positive or negitive reviews, thank you for reading my creation. It has taken nearly 15 years to tell this story, and it'll take plenty more.Books by Mario WalshTales of The Arter GemsEpisode III - The Chosen One - FREEEpisode IV - A Twist of Fate - FREEEpisode V - Syra's Paradox - FREEEpisode II - The Pinnacles of Fate - FREEEpisode I - The Prophet and her Legacy - FREEEpisode VI - The Syndicate of Time 'Prologue' - FREEAndBeyond the F.O.G SeriesEpisode I - The Chiller - FREEEpisode II - the Dark Messiah - FREEEpisode III - 2023Episode IV - 2025COMING SOONEpisode VI - The Syndicate of Time Full Edition + 'Epilogue' - 2025

Book preview

Tales of the Arter Gems

Episode III

The Chosen One

Mario Walsh

Tales of the Arter Gems

Episode III

The Chosen One

Mario Walsh

Published by Mario Walsh at Smashwords

Copyright 2013 Mario Walsh

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this free eBook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied or distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoy this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

Other books by Mario Walsh

Episode IV - A Twist of Fate

Episode V - Syra's Paradox

Episode II - The Pinnacles of Fate

Episode I - The Prophet and her Legacy

COMING SOON

Episode VI - The Syndicate of Time

Episode VII - The Mentor of Time

Episode VIII - The Guardian of Time

Episode IX - The Martyr of Time

Episode X - The Bounty of Time

Dedication to both

Life & Death

◊ Life ◊

DAVID WALSH

The best writer that no one knows

Thank you for all your wisdom. You've been an amazing father, and you did the best that you could at all times. Hope I've made you as proud, as you've made me.

◊ Death ◊

CHRIS JONKERS

27.1.1989 – 19.11.2012

You are missed by many, friend. You have left quite a legacy, and I am proud to have known you. Your advice will never be forgotten, I look forward to seeing you again one day.

Table of Contents:

Preface

I - Glow with the Flow

II - What becomes of the sweaty armpit?

III - Your Mood can change like the Wind

IV - Getting to Grips with my Destiny

V - The Fate of a Warrior

VI - Seal, Kneel, Meal

VII - Arter, Arter, wherefore art thou Arter?

VIII - Staring Death in the Eyes

IX - The Arter Gem is Sweet, but Revenge is Sweeter

X - To kill or not to kill, that is the Question

XI – Breaking the Ice

XII - Time to get to Know Each Other

XIII - Little Do You Know

XIV - Cliffs? You Never Mentioned Cliffs...

XV - A Thorn in my Backside

XVI - Fighting, Escaping and That Familiar Feeling of Safety

XVII - To See or Not to See

XVIII - Point Me in the Right Direction

XIX - The Battle of Neca City

About the Author

Preface

I’m dreading University and I’m not motivated to go. I’m eighteen going on thirty, living in a small country called New Zealand. Boys don’t bother with me for two reasons; the first is the way I look on a daily basis. I’m short, have black shoulder length hair with red streaks that I constantly flick out of my face, and I generally wear baggy jeans and a sleeveless metal t-shirt. The second reason is because of my coldness towards men. My dad left my mum when I was very young and she had to work two jobs just to feed us, let alone pay the bills he left us with. To this day we still don’t know why he left. Because of him I’ve become good friends with alcohol. It seems to solve my problems at the moment, although I’m permanently hung-over and I don’t really have any desire to achieve anything. My mum has been nagging me for months to get out of my room and become something, anything. She suggested that I sign up to a university to study writing; and I made my decision, finally. My name is Syra, and as of tomorrow my existence will suddenly become a lot more important.

I - Glow with the Flow

September 27th 2007 and the smell of the old man sitting next to me on this bus is making me gag. I'm sure he hasn’t showered in weeks, clusters of flies are buzzing around his armpits. I’m minding my own business, listening to heavy metal on my CD player. Yes, CD player; I've been collecting heavy metal CDs since I was eleven, so why change with the times?

I look towards the back of the bus and see a group of guy's perving at the girls in front of them. Every guy I’ve ever met is like that. They don’t care about feelings, looks always come first. Is it possible to meet a decent guy, someone who looks beyond a pretty face? I doubt it, they’ll have to work hard to win me over.

Besides men another thing I hate are needles. My mum is such a hypochondriac, since I was a kid I’ve had to have a blood test every, single, week. This is also why I'm suspicious about Leviathan University. Since when are there compulsory blood tests at a university?

The bus brakes screech and I run for the door as soon as the bus stops, taking a deep breath of fresh air as I walk onto campus. My heart starts beating rapidly and my hands feel damp. A normal day consists of me drinking alcohol in my room alone, listening to heavy metal music and writing poetry. I’m quite cold to anyone who shows any kind of interest in me and I don’t usually communicate with anyone except my mother so being out in a crowded place is rather nerve racking.

The university is quite old fashioned. The concrete walls and interior resemble an old hospital, maybe even an asylum; except for the main administration block, which is far more modern with a flat rooftop and white wooden walls. At the back of the university fields is a dense forest and I can make out students loitering around - I'd say it's a great place to get up to mischief on campus. I make a beeline for the infirmary so I can get this jab over and done with. I have class at 9am sharp, but this needle is more important; I bet my mother is laughing her socks off. Two birds with one stone: another needle for her daughter, and she gets me out of the house. But do you know what makes me the maddest? This is the only university that my mother would allow me to attend, because it was my father’s last request. As if he deserves a last request!

I quickly cross the field, dodging athletics students, eventually closing in on the infirmary. I can’t see anyone else heading here, why is it only me that seems to be having this needle?

The infirmary is the most run down building on the whole campus. It could have been a bloody abattoir with the old, brown paint peeling off. I waste no time heading for the front door; the inside has a musky sort of smell. The tatty green seats are rotten, as is the wooden floor, and the air in the room is damp and uncomfortable to say the least. The white, stained wallpaper is peeling from the wall; I’m pretty sure I’m in a building with the worst condition in all New Zealand.

While I wait patiently for my jab, a haggard old nurse resembling a witch walks in. She has straggly white hair with grey streaks covering her face, spilling out of the hood of a long black robe, and is wearing yellow dishwashing gloves.

Fill out this form and your blood is mine, she says and walks off, scratching her bum and snorting. A cockroach scuttles past my shoe, sending a sharp shiver up my spine, distracting me slightly before glancing at the form she wants me to fill out. Pretty standard, until a section of the form catches my attention;

Tick one of the following:

- Normal Blood Count

- Further Blood Analysis

Curiosity gets the better of me and I tick the bottom box. What analysis could they possibly be doing? Why would they do this sort of analysis at a university?

After several seemingly never-ending minutes, the haggard old woman comes back and prompts me to follow her. I hear the sound of a Zippo and she leads me down a long, dark corridor towards a flickering light at the end. Haunting the corridor are faint screams of HELP! And NO! Am I hearing things? Did I tick the right box? The old hag leers with her beady eyes over her right shoulder.

Don’t be scared child; it’s only a blood test, she says.

What’s all the screaming? I reply, trembling.

What screaming? It’s all in your head, child, she says, snickering to herself.

I start to freak out. I know what I heard, and am still hearing. Or have I been locked away in my room so long that I’ve lost touch with reality?

Almost at the end of the corridor we stop in front of a door, last on the left. I notice the door at the very end is covered in velvet.

What’s in there? I ask, pointing towards the velvet door.

Another nosy student, aren’t we? she snarls.

No! Just curious! I snap back.

The old hag pulls out a ring with a dozen or so keys on it. I’ve always wanted to see one of those. She fumbles for thirty seconds or so trying to find the right key.

I found it! Ha-ha, it takes a while sometimes, the haggard old woman growls.

I notice symbols glowing on her gloves. The emblem looks like an ‘X’ with four arrows in the gap.

What’s that symbol on your gloves? I ask as she opens the door. The old hag smiles at me.

What symbol?

The symbols glow a neon blue colour before disappearing. Now, I’m not a drug addict, and I haven’t had any of her ‘needles’ yet, so I know my senses are working perfectly. I don’t give up though; I’ve made it this far so I don’t want to throw in the towel. That all too human quality called curiosity has come over me, so I endure with what the old bat has to say and do.

Do you want to be strapped into your chair? she snarls.

Umm, okay, is that really necessary? I reply, trembling with fear.

Without a word she starts strapping my arms down to the chair, like I’m in an asylum for the criminally insane.

Ouch! I scream as the old hag takes my blood. The haggard old woman has her back to me and while looking through the cupboards she says;

Okay child, I’m going to explain the basic effects of your injections.

Injections?

The old hag keeps speaking like she hasn’t heard me.

One, you will need to wear dark shades for a few months, as your eyes will go white whenever danger is near.

What? Untie me! I scream.

Two, you may be able to see certain things that other people can’t. I won’t spoil the surprise.

I start to panic as she approaches me. Her eyes are glistening white, and the symbol reappears on her gloves. She wastes no time inserting the needle into my right arm, injecting a white fluid into my vein; it feels amazing. My eyes are picking up every fragment and molecule of dust in the air, and my sense of smell is magnified tenfold. What has she just given me? Definitely nothing I've ever tried in my teenage years of experimenting with recreational goodies. This pushes me beyond the point of paranoia.

After a few minutes the sensation wears off, and the old hag unstraps me and forces me out of the infirmary. She points me in the direction of my first class.

Don’t bother coming back here looking for answers. You won’t find any.

Okay so what just happened?! It's way too much to comprehend and now I'm running late for my first day, better get to class. My first class is history. Damn. Boring! If I didn’t have to do this class as a credit for my degree I wouldn’t be here. How can I really soak in all this information, when I’m still buzzing from what I just experienced? The classroom is on an incline down to the blackboard, and I’m seated at the top, up the back. I have to be positioned far away from the frizzy ginger haired professor; I need to get a grip on reality. I can’t concentrate. Am I dreaming? I can’t be! Maybe I am? But a dream doesn’t have this much detail! As I look around, most of the students in class look like mindless, heartless drones. Their undivided attention is focused on what the boring, mono-toned teacher has to say. One of the 'drones' looks at me. I smile at him, but he doesn’t even register. It’s as if he’s staring straight through me. It’s a little creepy! I feel a cold shiver run up my spine, as if something is walking over my grave. What is going on here?

I’m sitting in the middle of the field on my lunch break, staring in the general direction of the infirmary, and curiosity once again comes over me. I want to go back there, regardless of what that haggard old woman said. I stand up and start to stroll over, but I can’t see the infirmary anywhere. I check my campus map and I’m definitely in the right location, what’s going on? Suddenly, blue neon writing appears on the grass in front of me:

‘9am – 11am’.

It’s there for about fifteen seconds, then disappears. What does that mean? I have had enough of this creepy university for one day, so I decide to skip Italian and head home on the same smelly bus I had arrived in.

Back in my solitude, in the room I’ve been rotting in for so long, I lie on the floor with scrunched up bits of paper, trying to put my thoughts about today on a page. Staring at the heavy metal posters pinned on the roof and walls, I think about what had happened. I can’t believe it. How does a building just vanish? I’m guessing that the infirmary is going to reappear tomorrow between the hours I saw written in the grass. I’m going to check it out first thing in the morning.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Get up Syra. You’re late for Uni and it’s only your second day! Mum says after bashing a spoon against a pot right next to my ear.

Roger Mum! Got the message! I yell as I get my late little tush out of bed.

Hurry up and get ready, and I'll drop you there, Mum says as she leaves the room.

After I shower and change into my clothes I go to the car, but Mum is already waiting on the old motorbike. It’s been ages since she drove me anywhere and I forgot that the car broke down a while ago.

We silently cruise for about ten minutes; the breeze blowing through my hair is very relaxing. I fire a question at mum.

Mum, I’ve always wondered - why do you have a chopper? I ask.

It was your father's, and I haven't got around to replacing the old car. This baby keeps going and going. It never needs repair, and it’s like the gas tank is always full. No complaints from me.

Well I wouldn't keep anything that belonged to that selfish prick, I snap.

Hey, no need for that. We don’t know what happened to him; I still believe that your dad was kidnapped, Mum admonishes as we pull into the Leviathan University car park.

Cool isn't enough to explain how I feel being dropped off. Students nearby rush over to see what all the noise is; it’s just Mum and I, pulling up in our custom, old school eighties chopper.

Have a good day at university, Mum says as she revs the bike.

Thanks Mum, see you tonight, I reply, watching her leave.

I head back to the spot on campus where the infirmary had been; this time it is there. I look over my left shoulder at the university clock in the courtyard; 10:54am, just between the times in the blue neon message.

I approach and open the door, and blue neon writing appears on the floor.

Leave now!

A few metres further down the corridor another message appears,

Please go back, don’t go on!

Nothing can scare me off now! I can hear a low growling from the end of the corridor. I’m on a mission to find out what is going on in this infirmary.

The next message catches me off guard and scares me a little. It’s on the velvet door at the end of the dark corridor.

Syra, for your own safety please turn back.

My name is in that message! Now I definitely have to keep going.

I put my ear against the door. As I listen I can hear the haggard old woman talking to something, which is growling in response.

Here you go, I have a little treat for you from yesterday’s victims, she says.

The thing growls in response.

I quietly turn the doorknob and peek in. The room is about as big as a lounge, with the same murky style as the rest of the infirmary, except for the bloodstains on the walls. There’s a crate near the door; I slip in unnoticed and hide behind it, slowly peering over the top to see what the hag is talking to.

I can’t believe my eyes. The old hag did mention I’d see things that other people couldn’t see, but this? Freaked out would be an understatement of how I feel. I blink a few times to see if I am just imagining it, but I’m not.

A huge, hideous demon takes up a large portion of the room, in front of what looks like double doors. It has large fangs and sharp claws, and one eye about the size of a soccer ball. The demon's skin looks like a person with third degree burns, all hunched over with legs and arms as big as power poles. Thank the heavens it’s chained up.

The haggard old woman is feeding it blood, straight from the innocent veins of the students from this very campus. Where did it come from? What is beyond the double doors it’s guarding? What was I injected with? Was I infected or enhanced?

Suddenly, something grabs my wrist tightly, pulling me through the wall. I end up outside lying on my back. Somewhat dazed I sit up and see the person who grabbed me.

He looks about seventeen, has spiked black hair, is rather tall, and dressed in a short-sleeved white button shirt with a stripy tie and dress pants. Ha, what a nerd. Then I see his eyes, glassy white.

Let me guess, you ticked the bottom box? I ask.

Yes I did, unfortunately. I’ve been regretting it ever since. Were you even keeping track of the time? It’s 11am and the infirmary is in the process of disappearing, the nerd replies.

It dawns on me; he might have just saved my life!

What’s your name? I ask.

Vetor.

I smile, what a strange name.

Yes, I know my name is goofy. I was orphaned, and the name was stitched on the blanket my adoptive parents found me in.

I’ve never met an orphan before and I can’t imagine not knowing about where I came from. His mystery intrigues me enough to want to get to know him better. Vetor could be my first friend.

II - What becomes of the sweaty armpit?

What have you been seeing since having the injection? I ask.

Vetor looks at me.

Blue neon glowing ‘X’ like symbols.

Blue neon writing, we say, at the same time.

I want to see what’s beyond that door, I don’t care how scared I am or how dangerous it is, I say, trying to hide how freaked out I am.

Okay, I’ll join you if you accompany me to the white lecture theatre. There’s a meeting there for everyone who chose to get further blood analysis. So, do we have a deal? Vetor asks, offering his right hand to shake.

You have a deal. Let’s go then! I say enthusiastically, and we head to the lecture theatre.

Walking through the concrete labyrinth of educational confinement it feels like we’re being watched, like hundreds of security cameras are recording our every move. As we pass little groups of students, whispers and murmurs fill the air. I don't care what they think of us, as long as they keep their irrelevant comments to themselves, but we hurry along trying to avoid any unwanted attention.

On the white doors of the theatre we see the glowing blue symbol. Vetor looks at me with his eyebrows raised and opens the doors. My heart is beating like a lab rat as we quickly slip inside.

When we enter the students in the room turn around to stare at us like soulless drones. But we’re becoming accustomed to being stared at. We apologise to the lecturer for being late and quickly find the two nearest seats, in the back left corner. Like all the lecture theatres here the room is on a slope, maybe forty-five degrees from top to bottom, and the lecturer is at the bottom looking up at the class. He looks about ninety years old, is wearing a white cloak with a hood, and has a mop of white hair. Those are some pretty good hair genes; most men I know are bald by forty. Most importantly, he has white glowing eyes, and the glowing blue neon ‘X’ symbol between his eyebrows.

I am Vice Chancellor Zaruth, but in this theatre alone, you may call me Akiad, the old man says.

Thank you Akiad, the class replies in a chant.

He continues.

Selecting the lower box in the blood test was a very wise choice. Your second wise choice was respecting our wishes. By not returning to the infirmary, you have just saved yourself a lot of money. The school has decided to reward all you obedient students by paying your tuition fees!

The class stands and starts cheering, whistling and clapping. Vetor joins in, but I sit there motionless, not moving a muscle. I must be sticking out like a sore thumb.

Why aren’t you excited? He's saving us a lot of money, Vetor exclaims.

There’s something weird going on here. He’s paying everyone to stay away from the infirmary, and there’s a demon guarding something in there. I want to see what's beyond the door, I whisper.

Wait a minute, are you referring to that old woman? Vetor replies.

No, not her, an actual demon. Let’s get out of here.

We slip out of the hall during all the commotion. We agree to meet at the infirmary tomorrow by 8:45am to see what is beyond that door. I have to know, and I know Vetor feels the same as I do. He seems like a genuine guy, hope he turns up.

During the rest of my classes all I can think about is what happened at the infirmary. I can’t wait for the day to end.

Back at my house I sit on the swing chair attached to the Pohutukawa tree in the backyard, having a nightcap, staring at the beautiful Waitakere Ranges while the sun is setting. The hills are covered in trees all the way to the horizon, which gives a sense of beauty that transcends anything else.

What is in store for Vetor and me tomorrow? I still can't really believe what's taken place. In the midst of my deep never-ending loop of thoughts, Mum sneaks up behind me.

BOO! she says, suddenly grabbing me.

Geez Mum, that's twice in one day! I reply, reeling from the fright.

Ha-ha, apologies beautiful. What are you doing out here? Mum says, sitting down next to me on the swing chair.

Just collecting my thoughts. I had some interesting lessons.

Beams of light through the tree suddenly blind me.

I'm so proud of you, Syra. You’re finally going to university and doing something with your life. Your father would be as proud as I am right now, she says, putting her arm around me.

Why would you think of Dad in a situation like this? You're the only one who's been there for me in my life; why bother giving Dad any kudos? I ask.

Well, you're seated in a swing chair that I attached to this tree, which represents your father. I chose a Pohutukawa tree because it saved our life in a car accident years ago. It resembles the love we have for each other, and how death wasn't strong enough to separate us. He was a great man, Mum says, wiping a few lonely tears from her eyes.

Aww, don't cry Mum. He disappeared without a trace, leaving you here to raise a toddler on your own. Are you sure that you’re showing respect to a great man, or a great memory? I say, rubbing her back.

Your father is still out there somewhere. I can feel it, and this tree helps me, Mum says, smiling at me.

Well, I hope you're okay. I'm going to wash my makeup off and crash out. I love you, I say leaning in for a hug.

Okay beautiful, I'm going to stay out here for a bit; this view of the Waitakere Ranges is far too amazing, Mum says as I head inside.

Blinking while removing my eyeliner, I'm sure I see my black hair turn blonde in my reflection.

Huh?

I rub my eyes and lift my hair to check the colour but nothing is out of the ordinary. Am I going crazy? As I stare in the mirror my eyes change from glassy white to hazel over about a thirty second period. What does this all mean? I'm starting to get a little freaked out, I really need to get to the bottom of this.

It’s exactly 08:49am at the site of the infirmary. I’m wearing my favourite baggy, black denim jeans, black boots and a low cut, tight fitting, black singlet. Vetor still hasn’t arrived, I'm guessing he’s not coming but I’m not really that surprised. Everyone except my mum has let me down in life so I'm already expecting a no show. I lean against a nearby tree and watch students walk around campus. Does none of them wonder what's so strange about this place? Is it really just me? Doesn’t anyone find Akiad's way of running a university a tad odd? Why am I even here, waiting for a building to appear out of thin air? I still don’t believe it. Well, at least this is the most outdoor activity I’ve had since the turn of the century; maybe I might actually get a tan on this pale skin of mine.

Suddenly, two hands cover my eyes from behind.

Didn’t expect me to show, did you? Vetor chuckles.

To be honest, I didn’t even think about it! I reply sharply.

That’s the biggest lie in the history of mankind.

Why do you say that?

Because you’re blushing like a room full of strangers just saw you naked, it’s hilarious! Vetor says, bursting into laughter.

I ignore him, as I see something so breath-taking I can barely describe it. Out of nowhere tiny molecules form in the air, whooshing around in a circular, tornado style motion, increasing rapidly in speed.

What’s the time? I ask.

Vetor stops laughing.

08:59. We watch a hurricane of different colours in awe, and see a tattered, rundown building manifest in front of our eyes. I look at Vetor, and I’m not surprised to see his eyes are white; I can only assume mine are as well. If the old hag was right, danger must be near. We can't give up now though, I can feel we're close to finding out the truth.

We don’t want to muck around once the infirmary has solidified, so we go straight in. Vetor and I creep down the dark corridor and head for the forbidden velvet door at the end. For a building that can manifest out of thin air, you’d think they could afford a cosmetic facelift, or at least some light bulbs. Only one light is working in the corridor now.

As we approach the velvet door, Vetor and I notice that blue neon writing has appeared.

‘Syra, don’t get Vetor involved, he isn’t brave enough.'

Vetor chuckles.

Technically that’s not true. I may be a geek, but I am not afraid. I will prove that stupid message wrong. It’s probably just some jealous bully trying to bring down my self-esteem!

I smile at him, and reach for the doorknob. Quietly opening the door, we quickly enter the room taking post behind the same crate I hid behind yesterday.

Umm okay; yesterday when you said ‘demon’, you really meant it! Vetor whispers, his voice shaking.

See, told ya!

The demon is asleep; snoring so loud it could have woken the dead. Its one huge eye is so intimidating, and I could swear the reason the paint is peeling off the walls is its pungent aroma.

I look around the rest of the room, and the old hag is nowhere to be seen.

Okay, here’s our chance. I’m going to sneak through the door behind him, I whisper.

Are you nuts?! Vetor gasps.

I quickly put my hands over Vetor’s mouth.

Just listen to me and don’t ask any questions, or you'll be the bait for that hideous demon, understood? I whisper. We’re going to push this crate as close to it as we can. Let’s go.

Vetor doesn’t say a word; he just nods. We start pushing the crate, slowly and delicately towards the chained up demon. Every few hard