Rise of Ancients: The Sample

Chapter 2: Cardboard Walls

Only a week before, beneath the dancing leaves of the oak tree overlooking the fields of wheat, he saw the small green lizard sitting on an exposed root. Despite the ruckus of the boy's playing, it didn't run in fear like the squawking bird that had been next to it only moments before. With a scrunched face, the boy walked over and sat down beside it.

After a moment of observation, he leaned in and whispered in his softest voice, "Hello."

The lizard gently shook itself and slowly turned toward the sound of his voice.

Chapter 2: Cardboard Walls

29 hours after Regenifact

Halfway across town in a cramped office cubicle sat Matt Ontoradugh. Brushing tickling strands of unkempt onyx hair off his forehead, the groggy worker swore to himself as a small box popped up on his screen to once more mock him. He dragged his cursor until the pixelated arrow loomed over the magic button and half-heartedly clicked it to cast away last week's meeting reminder—the fourth time that day.

Five months ago, Matt was living the upper-middle-class dream. Comfortable home, hot shot job, and a gorgeous gal wearing his ring. Captain of his very own Man O' War, he was untouchable.

Without warning, disaster pierced his hull. Seemingly endless blissful years of marriage fell apart like logs lashed with cotton candy rope in the rain. Leaving only her ghost behind, his wife, Maddison, boarded another man's boat. Cloaked in decadent silk and virgin wool spun by Clotho herself, the interloping captain drowned Matt in his lavish shadow.

Matt's unanswered prayers fermented into vengeful daydreams to burn down the bastard's empire. The King might possess his tinted-glass tower of gold, but Matt had his own jewel. Frozen in time and tucked into his wallet, Maddison's heart-melting smile paid for his voyage to a better world each night.

Just a few weeks later, another domino fell. Refusing to keep mopping up the melancholy-drenched man's puddles, Matt's job escorted him from its premises. Like a depressed dragon, he began hoarding empty bottles and grew scales beneath his eyes to match.

He continued along a downward spiral, a coin in a funnel waiting for the moment the final drop would come. Then three weeks ago, Matt's dormant phone shook to life, breaking the cycle. On the other end, waving the flag of friendship, was a secretary from the office of home wrecking. Empty, oil-stained paper bags crunched beneath his feet as he stood up from the couch. This was his moment to scrape together some dignity and shove the offer right back into the man's smug face. Unfortunately, dignity was out of his budget.

Sitting atop Matt's obnoxiously fake wooden desk, wrapped in cheap aluminum foil that consistently failed to contain grease, was his breakfast. Chock-full of questionable ingredients, it barely passed as an edible burrito. Wishing he had woken up to one of his earlier alarms, he thought about the decent breakfast he could have made at home. Instead, $4.95 went down the drain for this garbage. Biting into it, he could feel the artificial meat caressing his teeth. He sent it down the hatch anyway and turned toward the office cube across from him.

Crammed into tight jeans and a stretched-out purple polo shirt sat Kevin Straus. Preferring to keep his curly brown hair cut short, the man's head resembled a ripe kiwi. An unpolished silver chain necklace hid under his shirt, only visible by a small strand poking out from above his collar. Despite saying that he had never worked out a day in his life, Kevin was built like a professional football player.

Feeling jealous and a bit angry at Kevin, Matt looked down at his own stomach. Seeing a dark grease spot from the burrito, he looked around for a napkin. "Not again," he groaned to himself. Digging through a pile of paperwork on his desk, he found a hidden napkin and used it to dab away the grease.