Friends with the King of the Underworld | Book 1

Chapter Eleven

The familiar woods were darker than usual. I barely recognized them in the night.

I looked above me and found dark clouds moving across the moon casting unnatural shadows all around. Rain poured down all over me, making me shiver.

As the wind picked up, a quick flutter of color in the corner of my eye made me turn.

Two small children ran in the rain, holding hands as they did. At first, they looked like they were running as if in a game but I recognized the backpack on the muddy girls' shoulders.

I watched the younger-Damien and younger-me running across the wet forest floor.

I knew this memory - this dream I was in.

I was dreaming of the night Damien and I met.

I wanted to help but couldn't. I was paralyzed in fear only being able to watch as the familiar dread and fear of that night washed over me.

I watched as we ran away, holding hands then the men came into view. But they were different from what I remembered. I always thought that they were both in armor. But there was only one.

The man had dark hair and was slender, he moved quickly, not burdened by his heavy armor. He was moving fast, much faster than the young children.

The man that was with him was the opposite. He wasn't in armor like I originally thought. He was in poor clothes - his dark flimsy tunic was stained with mud. He was not equipped for the cold night around us and the rainy weather was only making it worse.

And he was skinny, so skinny – like he hadn't eaten in weeks. His long silver hair was drenched and he shook as he slowly followed. But he gave no chase. Everything about him was opposite of the Dark-Haired Man.

I watched as younger me and Damien struggled to keep pace to out-run him but we were no match. I watched as I fell and Damien pushed me out of harm's way just as the Dark-Haired Man caught up.

I hugged my arms, feeling the cold breeze and rain pick up again.

I couldn't watch but couldn't turn away from the memory.

He picked up Damien by the front of his shirt collar like I remembered.

"You thought you could get away," the Dark-Haired Man growled.

I stared in amazement. I'd never been able to hear their conversations before. As hard as I tried in the years after, I could never remember the words spoken that night. Eventually, I'd given up thinking that I couldn't understand what they were saying.

But this dream ...

Was it a dream?

I couldn't be that creative after all these years.

Was I reliving the memory?

"Stupid boy," he continued. "I killed your guards, you think I won't do the same to you?"

Young Damien struggled, his eyes looking at the younger me in a soft, pleading way. He was begging me to leave him.

I watched the young-me shake her head. I wasn't going to leave him.

Rain started to come down even harder than the drizzling that started minutes ago. We were all starting to get soaked to the bone, my clothes were sticking to me.

A splash of pink flashed before me and I turned to the girl in the mud. She was throwing things at them just like I remembered. Tears streamed from her eyes as she continued to feebly throw rocks and sticks after the pink backpack was no use.

The Dark-Haired Man turned to the Silver-Haired one. "Kill her."

The Silver-Haired Man shook his head. "No, Alteazor. I will not murder a child that has nothing to do with this -"