Saturnalia (SAMPLE)

prologue: the invitation

Iyan had begun to lose hope in himself and his mission here. The trees were everywhere, and seemed to suck at his very soul the longer he walked. Eyes stared back at him when he looked into the darkness; were these the glances of mortals, or the illusions of a drug he had been given?

Iyan did not know, he could hardly tell where he was anymore. Flashes of red hair had him swiveling his gaze; blinks of smiling teeth made his stomach reel. Why had he come here? Home was such a safe place, even if not much happened to his pathetic existence. Letters of other worlds, postcards for people who had families - these were all Iyan's life had amounted to, but they were still better than being lost with these people.

Somebody to his left howled again, and he flinched, spilling the drink of one of the nearly naked before him. He stared, transfixed as it disappeared into the moss of the forest floor. Had he been sober, this would have demanded more attention, but the thrum of the march and the insistent shoving whenever he slowed his pace made attention to anything impossible. As though jealous of the nearby cry, another voice joined in, until the forest was shaking with the sound of wolves. Had real ones entered in this diabolical expression? Please, he tried to beg, please stop! My head... it hurts so... terribly! His mouth never opened, though, only the buzzing hum of incomprehensible words moving his lips. Unable to wipe it away, a line of spit, sweet and bitter like the wine, tricked down his lip, slipping past his collar.

Stupified and possessed by some herd-like quality, Iyan continued to walk. His feet felt bare, somehow. As the saliva ran maddeningly onto his chest, he tried to remember if he had been wearing shoes when this all began.

Where was Kairie?

A root reached up and slipped its rough fingers across his ankle, pulling him down to the bed of green. Help, he screamed, but neither Tehn nor the twins saw. They simply continued to shout and wave their arms amidst the crowd of skin. Moss, softer than anything Iyan had ever felt, pressed itself to his mouth. Muted by the very earth, he closed his eyes and watered its roots with his tears. The stamping of feet slowed. The screaming of Kairie's strange relatives dulled. Even the trees, ever whispering, had silenced their swaying to watch as Iyan Lutton slipped unconscious into the foreign void.