The Lost Boy

Prologue

Pain. Searing, white-hot, fiery pain. 

Darkness. Leaves. Sharp stones underfoot. Branches that were shoved out of the way and snapped back with enough ferocity to leave red marks. Roots that stubbed toes and tangled legs running through the jungle. Hands that no longer belonged to him. 

Nothing could compare to the pain. 

A moon loomed above, beaming with emerald light and pulsing with an evil energy that struck his gut, his head, his hands and feet, every part of him. It hurt; hurt so much he wanted to collapse and wail. But that couldn't happen. Ever. Not when the fate of an entire island, and possibly the world, rested on him making it to the pond. There would be no stopping, no hesitation, no surrender. 

He couldn't. 

That familiar metallic taste of blood speckled his tongue as his teeth dug deep into his lower lip, his breath coming short and fast through his nostrils as screams of pain were swallowed and suppressed. He looked up at the cursed green moon, his eyes moist and full of hate. 

He hadn't asked for this duty. Most days he didn't want it. He wished it would disappear. All it brought was pain, change, evil. 

But the island was unstable. He was the only one who could protect it from the force that tried to enter through the green moon. He may not love the duty, but he loved his island too much to surrender it to the power. 

He loved them too much. He couldn't let them down. Not again. 

The sight of a small stack of flat stones, piled in order by size with the largest at the base and the smallest at the peak, almost gave way to a sigh of relief. He was nearly there. The pain would only stay for a little while longer. He would make it. There was no other choice. 

Every time the moon turned green, the pain made him feel as though his body were being slowly torn apart. It burned his skin and boiled his insides and set his muscles aflame, while external forces grabbed hold of his limbs and began to drag them in opposite directions as sluggishly as possible, as though to inflict the most pain possible. But he never backed down, never gave in to the pain. 

More leaves and branches, more roots to stub his toes and more blood to stain his lip and tongue, to run down his chin. His breathing was shallow, full of pain, but he pressed on until he found the sacred lake. As small as it was, it was the most important place on the island. 

His bruised feet transitioned from the dirt of the jungle to the sea of smooth, round pebbles leading the way to the water, which shimmered and reflected a gentle golden light from an unknown source. 

When he reached the shore his weary legs finally collapsed, and the water leaped for the sky as he caught himself, his face just submerged in the crystal clear water. 

For the briefest moment he caught sight of himself upon the liquid. He was wild, tortured, terrifying. Part of him couldn't recognize his reflection. But he knew that the beast he faced was himself. 

Face first in the water, he collapsed onto his stomach, the now-disturbed pond sloshing around his wrists, his eyes closed. 

Immediately he felt another power enter him, battling the agonizing pain that had badgered him the whole way to the pond. His back arched, his eyes squeezed shut, and air bubbles streamed from his mouth as a muffled scream finally fought its way free of his body. His limbs trembled violently as his scream carried on into the water, causing the surface to ripple gently from the flow of the bubbles. 

But as he kept his face in the water, the white-hot pain began to lessen, driven back by the new power, and out of his fingertips, his mouth, his nostrils, and his ears flowed an emerald green energy, which stained the crystal water as it drained from his body. This brought with it a new pain, a feeling of walls compressing around him, smashing his body, contorting him in unnatural ways, with no signs of stopping. He continued to scream, every bitten-back cry of pain since the moon had risen streaming out of him like the deep green that continued to darken the water. 

After what felt like an eternity, the pain was gone, as though it had never been there. He ran out of screams and lifted his head from the water, kneeling on his hands and knees, as he looked out at the now dark pond. He watched, blinking water out of his eyes, breathing heavily, as the green that had been removed from his body was slowly dragged to the pebbly bottom of the pond, sucked into an unseen hole that glowed with golden light. He didn't move, didn't remove himself from the water, until all the green was gone, and the pond was clear again. 

As he gazed at the crystal liquid, he recognized his reflection again. His eyes, his hair, his cheeks, his nose, his bloody lips and chin; they were truly his again. 

He exhaled a weak sigh of relief, sitting back on his feet, and he looked up at the black, starry sky. 

The emerald green moon was now a bold white, glowing with a light that combated the shine of the biggest and brightest star in the night sky. 

Another sigh of relief, then the blood was licked from his lips and wiped from his chin and he rose to his feet, his legs shaking weakly. Blood roared in his ears as his heart throbbed wildly, but his limbs were limp and sagged with relief. 

It was over. 

It was over for now, at least. 

His golden eyes, which hadn't left the pond, now traveled up to the moon, fingers flexing as muscles recovered. The moon winked innocently, the evil behind it gone without a trace. 

But it would be back, and he would be ready for it. He had to be; no matter the pain, no matter the hate, he had to be ready for the green energy to return. He inhaled deeply through his nose and balled his fists, drawing himself tall, his golden eyes narrowing firmly. 

It was never over for long, after all.