Who Lies in the End?

Ch 7: 19 "And yet, I'm still alive"

art by: Lumos

We have been at sea for nearly a month now and all my thoughts are set on the land on the other side. Supposedly, there is magic the natives hold: pure, strong, and old. Unknown to anyone, this magic has remained hidden, but when you're as accustomed to rumors as I, you can hear the truth in lies.

This knowledge is hidden from human eyes, but apparently, it was been written down in a book. The intent was to share the knowledge with everyone, but the magic is strong. It can drive people crazy and has now become something to chase after.

What else are pirates for, if not for scouring after the most precious of treasure?

"Sound interesting," Clay mused as he flipped through the ruined journal. Most of the pages were rotted away, but there was enough remaining to show him his next adventure.

Out of all the pirate ships he's ventured to, and after all the treasure maps he'd followed, this was the first chest he found that had a book considered as a treasure. The sight excited Clay though. Half of his adventures came from piecing together loose knowledge from cobbled sources until he was able to craft a stable enough thread.

He let his leg dangle off the tree branch as he readjusted his position on the spruce tree. It was chilly up in the mountain, but it was a fair distance from anyone who would try to bother him. Clay was grateful that his mask kept the snow from falling on his eyelashes, otherwise, he would be rubbing his eyes to clear his smudged vision every time the wind picked up.

It was quiet outside, despite it being past mid-day. If he was near any form of civilization, there would be people shouting, bustling, and just being a general riot. He missed the sounds of life, but he also just enjoyed listening to the world. Most of the time it whispered, but in moments like these... it yelled.

It begged him to run into its mysteries. It shouted at him to go exploring that which others were too scared to. It encouraged him closer and closer to the edge of the world until he would fall off. He would listen too, and fall for its call every time. No matter the rules he broke, nor the trail he left behind, Clay would always push forward.

He leaned his head against the trunk of the tree and let the journal rest in his lap. His eyes dropped close and he could feel a midday nap coming on. Between the warm sun, reading, and the comfortable position, Clay was more than willing to catch a few z's before heading off.

Clay tucked the book safely in his bag before settling himself to take a small nap; however, his slumber was cut off as an explosion sounded below him. It jostled the tree, and would have knocked Clay to the snowy ground below had he not caught himself. He watched as licks of fire burned the dark trunk as they spread out from a small crater in the side of the tree.

Immediately, he was on edge and a confident smirk slipped over his face. A nap would have been nice, but he was done for a chase. Outsmarting city guards and hired hits was always a fun way to spend an afternoon.

"For a criminal, you don't have a good disguise."

Clay scanned the treeline, searching for the source of the voice, "You don't need to hide when you're as good as me."

He could hear the crunch of boots in the snow as a figure drew near. They were smart, though, and kept a tree between their direct view, "Is that a promise?"

Clay adjusted so his feet were flat on the branch, but he remained crouched, "How about a bet? The prize is my life."

"You're that confident, huh?" Clay heard the sound of a crossbow being loaded.

"I haven't been caught yet, have I?" he retorted as he readied his iron axe.

"Keyword: yet."

The figure popped out from behind the tree and pulled the trigger of his crossbow. Clay recognized the high-pitched whistle of a firework as the projectile flew at him. He jumped out of the tree and rolled on the snow before popping on his feet, just as the firework collided with the tree: a direct hit.