The blinding sun beaded between the gaps of the trees above, but that didn't bother the gentle breeze from gliding across the cool water. The melodic chirps were the only sound to penetrate the resounding wave of leaves rustling in the trees above.
Along this cool breeze, a young boy lay, slumped, against a strong golden Shirasa tree. The softening white of the boy's hair basked against the scarred, obsidian wood of the ancient tree. The interior shadow of the tree shone through as a negative space compared to the brilliance of the lustrous, golden bark of the rest of the tree. The mark from the large bear claw was as large as half the young boy's body, but it was not fresh, it was now a charcoal callus.
The tree was undoubtedly not from this region. It had grown a comfort for the young boy over the years. They were both painstakingly unique from their surroundings- foreign phenomena that eventually rooted in a faraway land.
The peace was amplified when he was shackled to the roots of the ancient tree. Silas had always been a child of introspection, sometimes to a fault. He had been shackled to himself and his own mind in many circumstances in the recent past as he grew older into early teenage angst.
The shift of the binding to the Shirasa tree was somewhat liberating mentally. He felt himself traveling through the tree's roots and out into the surrounding earth when in its presence. For this reason, many times Silas relaxation would evolve into a trance of lucid-like slumber.
This time was no different.
Silas lay at the bottom of the Shirasa, head drooped, in sync with the surrounding breeze, stream, and tree. He felt the water being absorbed into its roots, then being pushed up throughout the tree.
This time, though, his dream was harshly interrupted by the dissonant ring of three bells into the distance. With each bell, the sound grew more cacophonous.
Silas felt the rush of anxiety return as his earthly tie was abruptly severed. His mind played the only ever mention of three bells his mentor gave. "You hear three, you lock yourself in the barn without looking for me."
Silas turned to run for home, frantic to catch his master. Upon arrival, Silas was greeted with an open door. He glanced over to the stables to notice master's horse and weapon missing. His grow of concern for the old man had grown over the last few years. Silas had noticed his mentor's once demanding physical stature had dramatically decreased. In Silas' youth, he had witnessed the colossal, overpowering nature of his mentor against full-grown oxen, wrestling them to the ground with his bare hands. Recently, the only meaningful physical task done by the old man was chop wood.
Silas' face tightened as he feared the worst. He had been alone so many years ago, but he could hardly remember now. Life without his mentor now seemed... impossible. How would he eat? How would he take care all the land? How would he keep the king and surrounding villages from taking everything? The old man was not tenacious physically, but sagacious. He had more wisdom than Silas could ever dream of absorbing into himself. Silas gripped his shirt as his stomach fell to his feet.
He ran. As fast as he could.
Within a few seconds, he realized with each blink he would travel further than before. Within a few dozen blinks, he was halfway to town.
He winced and grabbed at his side. As he opened his eyes, he realized he was in the middle of the village. Pushing through the pain, he noticed his mentor meeting with some townspeople. His exhaustion had stopped him short of reaching his mentor, but he couldn't push his body anymore. The breath finally slipped from his teeth as if he was still holding it for dear life. Collapsing, he grimaced and grabbed one side of his face as his vision from one eye went completely blurry. The other had just enough vision left to see the outline of his mentor among the crowd of meager townspeople. He managed to hold his head in one piece by clutching both halves together as the pain threatened to split him along the seam.
"Sage......kill....warrior....threat..."
Silas couldn't make out the words being spoke. He could see his mentor, but it felt like he was stars away, incapable of doing anything but watch from a shadowy corner.
"I'll handle it."
Silas heard that. He had closed his eyes to focus all his attention to his hearing. He opened them to watch his mentor's figure slowly approach a shadow along the interior village wall. Silas
Silas, desperate, tested his senses. His hearing, similar to his vision, faltered as his pain continued to throb as his mentor moved further. His heartbeat had forsaken him, preventing him from protecting master.
He honed his focus first into his lungs to try to control his breathing, but it just ended with gasps for air. Next, he tried to control his heart. He imagined holding his heart in his hands, choking it, only letting beats out reluctantly. His body faltered.
The tree. He concentrated on his feet. He focused on sending his senses, and excess energy, through his feet into the ground beneath him. He instantly felt the connection. His breathing slowed and heartbeat organized as he became more than himself. Only this time, the restrain to earth felt vast.
Silas felt the pressure of a bottomless lake funnel him into a fine point of consciousness. He peeled open his eyes to a dichromic, black and white world. He released the clasp of his head and no longer winced. He raised himself to behold his ethereal being no longer tethered to his tangible body. A feeling of familiarity washed over Silas.
Silas, with plenty of time, noticed the birds frozen mid-flight. The townspeople all gazed in a singular direction- the shadow.
Silas slowly approached his mentor and shadow while keeping his mentor between himself and the shadow. While time was still frozen, he couldn't help this sinking feeling. As he approached, the shadow came into focus. It was a boy, probably around the same age as Silas. The boy's clothes were shrouded in darkness that was amplified by the dichromic world. The black had matured into an abyss of sickening darkness. The only distinct feature that laid at the center of the pitch-black hole were eyes that lacked color. A complete illusion of white against the darkest black Silas had ever seen.
The only grey on the boy came from the blood turned resin from arrested time on his still hand. Silas was normally sickened at the sight of blood. Being in this world, he realized now it wasn't the sight but the smell. The smell that radiates into a metallic taste like a slow poison. The grey was now simply the color of his mentor's beard. It no longer was a flowing crimson waterfall.
Silas heard sounds coming from both. While audible, they were incomprehensible strings of sounds too slow to understand. Silas squinted in deep focus to make out the words of the boy.
It was at that moment the boy retreated back into his hood. His suspicion was growing. Silas was somewhere he wasn't supposed to be. Silas felt time slipping through his fingers as if it was water in his palm.
The shadow had gained the control of time. He turned to face the invisible threat, still unaware. The ghastly eyes shifted in focus as the fox-like pupils found Silas hiding in plain sight.
Fear penetrated into Silas' very soul. His blood ran cold. He felt the slam of gravel of consciousness. Silas felt the instantaneous pain of immediately being ripped from the unseen world.
The disoriented state was quelled only to awake to the sight of the boy lunging at his master with a blood-stained, double-sided bronze dagger.
Time had now betrayed Silas.
