Legend Of Pandora

Chapter VII: Remnants

Cloak had been traveling in the wastelands for hours. He was looking for the remnants of Algoria. He was still upset about Python, though. Cloak had a hint of regret in him, but he knew it was for the better. I am Serpent no more, He thought.

He had exited the Ashforest, though the landscape was still ruined. Instead of dead trees, the place was a flat plains, which barely had any grass besides some dying roots. Their sharp edges tickled Cloak's legs, and he was becoming annoyed with them.

The sun was setting. It's been a few days since he decided to leave the Serpents and started the journey.

One of the roots got caught in his legs and he fell to the ground. He hasn't eaten or slept in a few days, and he barely had the strength to get up again.

Whilst Cloak lifted himself upwards, he saw something in the distance. Finally, he reached the remnants of Algoria.

He saw a few trees and bushes growing fruit on them. He scuttled towards them with the last of his strength and picked up a few raw wild berries. They were already half eaten by insects and birds, and they were nauseating, but Cloak didn't care.

He filled his bag and pockets with as many fruit as he could and then went towards the remnants. He hoped Python was correct and that there was equipment in there indeed.

I could probably live here. He thought. I Can plant more bushes and eventually have enough food.

Cloak went in the remnants, hoping to find something worthwhile.

The central hallway of the structure was the least damaged. It was full of little ornaments and epic statues of important men from the history of Algoria. The floor was full of tiny glass shards, and above Cloak was a shattered chandelier.

It led to a room, which was full of weapons and armor. Most of them had been molted by the flames, though. One corner seemed less damaged, and a shiny set of pewter armor, which was almost at perfect condition, excepting the left side of the helmet, which has been oddly shaped by liquefaction years ago.

Cloak was content and quite delighted with the armor. If he was going to survive out there in the wild, some form of protection would be beneficial to his survival.

He took it and put it on. He also considered replacing the sword Python made for him, but he decided against it, knowing he'll regret that eventually.

He explored it for a while but hadn't found anything too exciting. He left the remnants and came back to the fruit bushes he had found earlier. If he wanted to live there, he had to know his surroundings, so he went exploring the nearby area.

It was right on the edge of the wasteland. It was inappropriately quite charming. The dead, rotten grass and vegetation slowly transformed into a lush, vibrant area. He traveled in it for a while, and it was truly beautiful. A wonder compared to the views he was used to, walking in the Ashforest for what felt like months.

He then noticed something strange in the horizon. A leather purse, laying on a stump of a cut tree.

Cloak walked towards it. He hoped whoever left it there for whatever reason had some coins in there.

When he was approaching the stump, he walked one step to it so the purse would be on his reach, but suddenly a wave of unbearable pain ached his leg.

It was a bear trap. It cut deep into his foot, and He fell towards the stump. It was a trap. He got the purse to see if there was anything inside it, but it was empty. His foot was already completely covered in blood.

Cloak then fainted.

* * *

Cloak woke up in a bed. The first thing he thought of was that this whole thing was a dream, and so he believed until he noticed it wasn't his bed.

It was made out of rough wool, which seemed like it was harvested from sheep just recently, and wasn't processed in any way.

He then looked around. It wasn't his room. It also wasn't any room in the Serpent Stronghold, or any place he had ever been to. The walls were painted a dark red, and a skin of a bear served as carpet. It was lacking some lighting, as only one, weak lantern served as a light source.

"You have awakened, I see." Said someone from outside the room. He wanted to step out of the bed and see whoever that was, but his leg was aching badly.

"Who are you? Do you know who I am?" Asked Cloak.

"Sorry to break it to you, but I don't care who you are, and neither do anyone else here." The voice said. Cloak speculated she was a female, because of her voice.

"You got other people here?" He asked.

"None of your interest." The woman replied. She walked in the room, finally.

She was fairly old. 60 years old at the least. She was stout and short, wearing a white shirt stained with blood on the shoulder.

The woman noticed Cloak was looking at the blood on her shoulder.

"This blood is from your leg, if you were wondering. I had a tough time getting you here." She said and giggled a bit. Her laugh was slightly creepy.

"Why did you bring me here?" Cloak asked.

"You are a greedy fool." She said. "Foolish enough to steal the box of Pandora from our temple."

Cloak intended to say something to cover it up, but he had a feeling that was pointless.

"So you laid bait for foolish greedy men? I am not the only one like this out there, you could have caught someone innocent." Cloak said. He always had an urge to protect innocent people, but he didn't let it out much until now.

"If we would have caught the wrong man, we would have had a nice meal at the least." The woman said and giggled creepily again. Cloak wasn't sure whether she was joking about eating people.

"So you brought me here to get Pandora back? I don't have it anymore." He said.

"I know you don't, we searched your bag." Said the woman. "The only reason you are still here is that you know who has it."

"The Bloodmixians." He answered.