Sky Returns - Rewritten/Revised

Chapter Three

Underneath Cerra was a man. There wasn't a bit of decay on him in neither his skin or his clothes. He had dark, tanned skin and brown curly hair fashioned in a low ponytail draped over his shoulder. His eyes were closed and his arms were crossed over his chest like an X, the position common among the buried dead here in Laverdure. Peering closer after the shock went away, Cerra saw that the man had a strand of white in his hair, draped in front of his left eye. How old was this tomb? The guy was still warm, not cold like the dead, and he didn't seem to have even one day's worth of decay on him. Trust him, Cerra had seen a lot of dead bodies in his time. He knew how it worked and it certainly didn't work like this.

His train of thought was interrupted when he heard voices.

"See? There's no one here. Come on, let's just go. This place is giving me the creeps."
"No! Check the room!"
"There's nowhere to check, man! He wouldn't be able to hide out in the open like this, we would've seen him the moment we stepped in!"

Thank God. They would leave and Cerra could get out, leave this weird place behind, and just repress it was a bad childhood. He didn't like how he was straddling this guy and there wasn't much room in this coffin considering the back of his head was pressed back against the lid.

"Well, what about the coffin?"
"You can't be serious."

Oh no. What. Why? Why did God hate him? He heard footsteps coming up towards the coffin and his heart began to pound in time to the sound.

"Dude, we can't open that!" The first voice hissed.

"Yes, we can! Help me out here!"
"Hell no! You wanna look so bad?! You do it!"

Cerra was frozen. He was in such a compromising position. The moment they'd see him they could just thrust their sword down and he'd be dead. He'd be joining this freaky guy in the afterlife and his blood would stain the golden and cushioned floor of the coffin. Who put cushions in a coffin? Weird.

Touch the amulet.

The voice was so soft and he would've mistaken it for his own if he didn't recognize it as a female's.

Go on. Touch the amulet.

Cerra glanced down and found that the man was wearing an amulet, tied around his neck with a purple ribbon. Connected to it was a golden disk, as thick as Cerra's pinkie. In the very center was a black gem.

You are my descendant. The voice whispered. Touch the amulet and he will wake up. He can protect you from the Quidills.

He could feel the coffin lid beginning to shift above him.

"Are you seriously just going to stare at the wall?!"
"I'm reading the markings! Whoever was born here must've been pretty important, and I wanna apologize for your blatant disrespect!"

Go, Cerradura.

Cerra's eyes widened as a cold chill ran down his spine. He didn't like that. He didn't. No one knew his full name, not even his gang. Only him and his Abuela and she had promised to never tell anyone!

Touch the amulet.

He lifted his hand before he even realized what he was doing. Why not, right? What did he have to lose? He was dead either way.

"Wait! Don't open it!"

The coffin lid paused and Cerra stiffened. His fingers curled into his palm and his dull nails bit into his skin but he ignored it.

"Why not?!"
"This belongs to the Skylar Laverdure!"
"Man, you actually believe that fairy tale?! I'm opening it!"

Cerra panicked. He reached down and touched the dark gem with the tips of his fingers. Almost immediately there was a reaction. Green wisps of magic spiraled around his hand and went up against his arm. He felt his hair standing up and he gritted his teeth as his toes curled into the insides of his shoes. He couldn't breathe as the green magic crackled through the air, and he yanked himself back from the man like he had burned him. His head struck the roof of the lid with a resounding crack and his eyes crossed. Half a moment later the coffin lid was yanked back and he felt a hand grab the back of his hoodie and yank him out of the coffin. He went crashing to the floor like bricks, coughing roughly as he found he could breathe again.

"HA! Thought you could hide in a coffin, did you?!" The man above him sneered down at him. Cerra couldn't make any of his features out. His vision was fuzzy like the static on an out of service TV and his hearing was so muffled it was like there were cotton balls stuffed in them. He coughed harshly as he felt a boot dig into his stomach.

"Aksel!" Another voice shouted.

"We're gonna cart you back to the base, make you pay for killing one of our own! Did you honestly think you could just waltz into our territory and come out alive?!"
"Aksel, watch-!"
"Oh shut up, Lucas! I'll be sure to tell Commander Cain you've done nothing to help-!"

Aksel never got to finish that sentence. His voice was cut off by a sharp cough. Cerra felt something wet splatter over his side and he looked up. He squinted through the clearing static. Sticking out of Aksel's chest was the sharp blade of a sword, black from Quidill blood. Cerra's face drained of color as he watched a hand reach up and grab his shoulder to push him off the blade, shoving him to the side. Aksel coughed shallowly, trying in vain to breathe as his lungs filled with blood. He landed on his chest an arm length from Cerra who stared, frozen in place, as he went still and didn't move again.

Cerra looked up. Standing beside the coffin was the man that had been lying there moments before, staring down at Cerra with burning gold eyes. Cerra's eyes locked on the painting on the wall behind him. Painted on the stone surface was a man who looked just like the one before him, with his sword lifted into the sky and his mouth open in a silent war cry that would never end. Painted in gold cursive besides him was a name that would stick with him for the rest of his life.

Skylar Laverdure.