Chapter 8 - "This feels like home"

"Oh, Nietzsche, you were right, weren't you? When you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes back at you," I thought, staring down into the bubbling mouth of the volcano. This was it. My grand plan for freedom? Dead. Instead of becoming a wealthy merchant and living a peaceful, stress-free life, I was about to be thrown into a volcano. By my own father. Sacrificed to some ancient, dead dragon. Life is cruel. 

My mother had stayed behind at the palace. Sure, she'd been all smiles and encouragement, but I knew the truth. Deep down, she didn't want to watch her little moon pie get boiled alive. I mean, that's gotta be the reason, right? Definitely not because she'd rather curl up in the library with a book. Right? 

"Are you ready?" My father's voice boomed beside me, filled with way too much enthusiasm for someone about to toss their only son into a volcano. 

"No," I muttered, shaking my head. I tried to take a step back, but his giant hand was already on my shoulder, locking me in place. Damn it. 

Time for my ultimate weapon: the sad puppy eyes. Nobody can resist this face. "Father," I whimpered, putting on my best pitiful voice, "can we, uh, try this another time? I don't think I'm ready." 

But of course, he didn't buy it. Not even for a second. 

"Of course you are!"he said, flashing his signature wide grin, the one that made him look like he was enjoying this way too much. And before I could protest, he grabbed me like I and lifted me up high. "Don't forget to say hi to the giant lizard for me, okay?"

And then, just like that, he flung me into the volcano. 

"YOU DEMON!" I screamed as I plummeted toward the boiling pool of lava below. The heat was so intense I could smell my hair starting to burn as I got closer to the molten blood, or whatever the hell it was. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable end. There's no way anyone survives being thrown into a volcano, right? 

"Demon? Where?!" I faintly heard my father shouting above, probably scanning the horizon, still completely oblivious that I was referring to him. I wanted to call him an idiot as my goodbye words, but the fear didn't even let me open my mouth again.

The fall felt like it lasted forever. Each second stretched out, more agonizing than the last. How am I still not there yet?! I squeezed my eyes even tighter. Any second now...

Goodbye, life! It was good while it lasted. 

Then, splash.

I braced for the burning pain... but it didn't come. No agony. No burning. Did I die instantly? I cracked one eye open, but instead of the afterlife, I was met with total darkness. No lava. No flames. Just pitch black, stretching out in every direction, like I had been swallowed by some endless void.

"Where the hell am I?" I blinked, disoriented. It felt like I'd been dropped into a dungeon, one of those miserable places where prisoners rotted in the dark for eternity.

"Is this the afterlife?" I muttered, trying to make sense of it. "Killed by my own father. That demon. At least it didn't hurt..." I was still dizzy with confusion. "But where's the light? Isn't there supposed to be some light guiding me to the afterlife? Or maybe to my next life? Or at least some old lady offering me a nice tea to help me forget my memories?" 

"Is this the afterlife?" I muttered to myself. "Killed by my own father. That demon. At least it didn't hurt..." I was still disoriented. "But where's the light? Isn't there supposed to be a light guiding me to heaven? Or maybe to my next life? Or at least an old lady offering me a forgetting-tea?" 

I had so many questions, but absolutely zero answers. The more I thought about it, the more dread grew inside my chest. Am I stuck in some kind of limbo? No, no, no, stay positive. Maybe I'm just in the waiting room for the afterlife. What's my number? 

Just as I was trying to convince myself that this was some cosmic clerical error, a sharp, high-pitched whistle sliced through the silence.

I froze.

This sound...I recognize it

Years of torturous training with my father had honed my instincts. I threw myself to the left just as an arrow zipped past me, grazing my cheek. The heat from it was unmistakable. A fire arrow. Of course.

"Damn it!" I yelled, quickly scrambling to my feet. "Even dead, I still have to train?! I'm dead! The dead are supposed to rest!" 

But I had no time to rant. Two more arrows screamed through the air, faster than the first. I dropped to the ground, narrowly dodging one aimed for my head. The second struck the ground beside me, sending sparks all over. I rolled away from the heat, my heart pounding rapidly.

"Upward!" My senses screamed just before another arrow came flying down from above. 

I quickly rolled out of the way, just as the arrow struck where I'd been lying. My body moved easily, more agile than ever. Years of dodging my father's insane training routines had me reacting before I could even think. I rolled again. But the arrows kept coming. One after another.

"Upward and left!" I muttered, feeling the whistle of two arrows slicing through the air toward me, one from above, the other from the side. I twisted my body mid-roll, spinning like a loose screw, and heard the two arrows collide in mid-air, sending more sparks flying.

I landed on my two feet, with a thought "This feels like home." 

Another barrage of arrows came whizzing past, which I dodged easily with a sidestep. This was too familiar, just like training back at the palace. Dodging and evading without needing to see the arrows. It was all muscle memory now. 

Home. This was exactly like home. 

And just like at home, it didn't stop with a few arrows. They kept coming. More and more rained down on me. Fifty? A hundred? It didn't matter. I dodged them all. Sometimes I ran, sometimes I crouched, sometimes I leapt into the air or twisted my body out of the way. I wasn't even sweating. 

These arrows were predictable.

Hours passed,or at least it felt that way, and finally, the rain of arrows stopped. The world around me shifted again, like teleportation.