Return to Chestme

Chapter 4: The Abominations of Those Nations

The glen swayed beneath the swift steps of Mmuz and Syperion, a sea of emerald cascading in their wake. They darted, leaving a trail of their shadows behind as they disappeared into the dense foliage of the Westerian forest. The tree line stood like sentinels, their twisted branches circling the woodland.

The Glenoid's legs pumped with adrenaline as they navigated through the underbrush. Each snap of a twig beneath their feet contributed to the symphony of their beating hearts. The air was thick with the scent of damp soil and vibrant wildflowers, a heady concoction that fueled their lungs with every breath.

As they weaved deeper into the heart of the forest, the patchy sunlight glimmered through the thick canopy, painting the forest floor. The weary lizards pressed on, creatures of all kinds scurrying away, startled by the unfamiliar sounds of their footsteps.

Syperion followed close behind, his eyes scanning their surroundings with vigilance.

Mmuz heard a loud snap and turned just in time to see Syperion fall to his knees, trapped in a hunter's snare. Panic flooded Mmuz as he hurriedly made his way to him. With quick thinking and strength born from Glenoid arms, he used a fallen branch to free Syperion from the snare, the ropes snapping and releasing him from their painful grasp.

The two continued their escape through the forest, knowing that the dangers of Chestme were far behind.

****

Hidden amongst the bustling streets and winding alleys of Chestme, Nimmod's own flesh and blood conspired against him. Nimoa and Mori, whose scales shimmered less brilliantly than those of their father, hid beneath the depths of the city's subterranean tunnels. It was beneath These spaces, once used to store provisions, now harbored the hearts and minds of insurgents.

"Remember, friends, silence speaks louder than swords in these halls," Mori whispered, his eyes reflecting the flickering torchlight. "We wait in silence and help will come," his tail swished with quiet intensity.

Among the rebels were youthful idealists and hardened prisoners who carried the scars of Nimmod's reign on their very scales. They were bound by a common thread. A cloak of deceptiveness.

"Father was once the beacon of our kind," Nimoa confessed to a circle of trusted faces, "but that light has been dimmed by his insatiable hunger for control and the building of this fortress."

"Love for our father wars within us. However, his cold rule wars within us even more as it does in any who won't follow the cruel bite of his dominion," Mori added, his voice laced with melancholy.

"Then let us be the blade that severs the bonds of fear," a rebel spoke up, her snout lifting, showing her jagged teeth.

"Indeed," Nimoa nodded, "for though our hearts ache, we cannot abide the path he treads—a path strewn with selfishness."

"Tonight, we go out. Lets whisper the word of rebellion to any who will listen." Mori proclaimed. "...and soon our silence will break. Fellow Glenoid have escaped and with them hopefully our freedom."

The air became thick with the musk of anticipation and the scent of damp stone.

In the dark, surrounded by their Glenoid allies, Nimoa and Mori stood united by the love of a father and the hatred of a tyrant. Above, where the stars gleamed, away from the towering Chestme spire, MMuz and Syperion raced, the canopy of the Westerian forest growing sparse before them. The caress of dawn graced the forest floor with a mosaic of light and shadow.

MMuz's breaths came in measured pants as they followed a vegetated and shaded path.

"If we make it to Seaside, Low can help us." Syperion's voice broke through the silence.