Victoriously Yours,

Yours Under Elms

Yisrael carefully maneuvered behind the back of the tent. He slipped into the small opening disguised into hiding of them back chamber room where the dragon is fire lied, squeezing himself in and he slid into narrow transit.

Carefully peering through the slit of grim and rock, he saw Chris hazardously looking over his father's pamphlets, parchments.

Hunters with rifles at the ready paced around, gibberish spoken between them as they glanced at the fire in the middle.

When he glimpsed towards the fire, searching. He saw it.

His father bound and beaten. Blood gushing from his mouth, his arms limp almost as if they were pulled out of its socket.

His breath held, anger seeping inside his veins as Yisrael fisted his palms.

"One last time where is the stone?" A tall man with dark shadows under his eyes stood over Yuri from behind. His hand fisted a long whip with spikes designed on its tail.

Yuri mumbled something incoherent but it wasn't what the man was looking for, another round of whap and hoarse yell resounded in the chamber.

Chris flooded towards him, red with unholy rage. "Tell me where is it?!"

Coughing, Yuri spit gorge of blood onto his face. "Not over my dead body."

Another whack burned his back and his back bowed in an odd angle as Yori felt the power strains leave him, heading down to the ground. The earth absorbing his blood with it.

He wheezed, the pain of breathing in was like swallowing rocks.

"Tell me now!" Chris screamed, his greed blinding him. He looked for this his entire life, he wasn't going to be denied of its wealth. His affluence. His fame.

To be finally prove himself to all those laughed at him, saying he couldn't evince anything. How many hours of wasted effort he laid in his basement, researching and searching.

He wasn't going to leave empty handed.

With bated puffs, Yuri spoke. "You- will fail— ultimately."

Those words hit Chris like a truck. He slammed Tiger to the side, and yanked his gun from his holster.

Aiming in his shaky hands, he pointed it at Yuri. The old's man face was strung with streams of heavy red, his eyes swollen and tired. He wasn't going to live.

No pangs constricted Chris. He wanted his win. His prize. His stone.

He seethed out. "I'm asking for the last time where is it?"

Yuri stared at the barrel. So finally it comes to this.

So long he had lived. His own birth, to his childhood then rapidly changing into the adult he knew he had become. Then, his beautiful wife had came along and taken away.

He felt his son's eyes on him. His rapid breathing still faint but audible. Yisrael was here.

His son couldn't save him. There were too many of them. Even if he knew the futility of it all.

With a last breath, he inhaled and raised his voice hoping his son could hear it, his god could hear it. "We have lived long. Long enough. And finally, we have come to our end."