Chapter 9: The Alpine Realm

1

'Our final destination for the day is Venton, the town just on the other side of the river,' said Ozin, fumbling through a load of keys. 'And then we can have a good night's sleep after a long, tired day.' Sammy yawned and leaned against June, clutching her arm and struggling to stay awake.

They stood on the bank of the river, watching the orange sun glaze the clouds, making them pink, settling off into the distance. 

'How do we get across?' asked Ben.

Osen snapped his fingers a few times. A few seconds later a boat drifted from the upper river and magically stopped by the shores they were.

 'Hop in.' ordered Ozin. They did so before Ozin snapped his fingers again twice. The boat obeyed and carried them across the water, steadily moving towards the other side of the shore. They got off from the other side and dragged themselves to the last few steps of the town. It was once again getting dark. June could see nothing but the shadowy outlines of things. Her legs were aching so much, and it wasn't even from the old wound. Ben and Sammy weren't looking any better, they looked extremely worn out, panting with every step. 'Hold on,' encouraged Ozin. 'We're almost there.'

The rest of the night was blurry. June remembered Ozin unlocking a two-storey apartment, built in a row on either side of a cobblestone road along with many others. They went in and upstairs, washed and brushed their teeth. Ozin sorted them into their rooms. The beds and covers were green and with worm silk and processed cotton. It felt like fluffy clouds, so it was only natural the moment June lay down she fell into a deep, untroubled sleep.

2

 The next morning, she was woken up by the sound of Ozin calling in their wake. 'Wake up, ya sleepy heads. We have a long day ahead of us.'

Ben had never been so excited in his life. One moment they were in the deep, dark Alps feeling lost, the next they went through a cross-dimensional portal and were in another world where there was a red moon, and an infinite field of green which merges the two together on the horizon.

It was quite late last night when they came and they didn't have a clear look at the town's structure: The town's interior comes in layers. Kind of like a walled city, with a part embedded on the west side of the river, straight ahead of the part is a concrete road leading straight into the town itself, with a length of 100 metres rising from the banks, a concrete slab level the town to prevent floods and tides from reaching the suburb.

It was still pretty early in the morning and there was no one around on the streets yet (Ben suggested to go early to avoid being spotted). They rode the boat down the unnamed river, passing along several miles of mountains. 'Those are the Hood mountains, the border of the Alpine region, after you cross the border, you enter the protection of the magic council circle, which encloses the area from threats,' explained Ozin.

They sailed down the river for another hour or so when Ozin slowed down the speed at which the boost was going. A chill sent Ben shivering down his spine. Soon enough, the proximity of their vision was shrunken significantly.

'Strange,' mused Ozin. 'We should be at the golden bridge by now… so much fog…'

Their surroundings were unnaturally quiet, the birds had stopped chirping and the only sound they could hear was the water washing at the banks and the river flowing.

June sniffed the air. There's the smell of rot. thought June, puzzled. Suddenly, the underside of their boat was knocking and she yelled, startled. A grey, stripped hand grabbed Sammy by the collar, and yanked him into the river in the blink of an eye. There was a splash.

'Sammy?' They exclaimed in unison. Ozin looked very anxious. 'A purge! During this time?' Saving Sammy was the priority, although mysteries remain unanswered. As far as they knew, the water was disturbed with grave-coloured creatures taking the shape of a man. One of them came up behind June and seized one of her arms to drag her down. Ben came up and knelt beside it, grabbing her other arm before sending a swift kick at the zombie-like thing, knocking it back into the water.

'That thing had claws!' exclaimed a bewildered June, sitting and leaning on the frame of the boat.

All of a sudden, Ozin came splashing out of the inky water carrying Sammy, who seemed to have run out of air, unconscious and drenched. Panting, he picked up a towel and coated Sammy with it. 'What were those things?' asked Ben nervously.

'Drowned ghouls, undead people whose lives were claimed by the water…' he explained. 'They usually only come out at night, not during daytime. And that fog…' Ozin stared at the water for a while. Finally, he said, 'This is not over yet. They'll come back, that's how the process goes – they sneak in waves.' Then, he noticed June's bruised and bleeding arm. 'Must have ruptured a vessel or two. Now,' he pressed a hand against the wound. She winced as blood – her blood slowly dripped down her forearm, staining her T-shirt and shorts. She felt a rush of coldness creeping up her veins. 'Don't panic. Antibiotics.' said Ozin, his eyes closed. 'The ghoul's claws are sharp enough to slice through stone. You are so lucky to have cuts relatively close to the skin.' He finished with fresh bandaging, hearing June groan and gritting her teeth as he pulled tight. 'Is Sammy alright?' she asked.

Osen stood up, 'He's probably out for a few hours, but he'll be okay.'

A few minutes later they could see the sky again. The fog cleared behind them. A fresh breeze blew past their cheeks and they felt calm again. As they went further south, crosses began to appear on the fields – people's graves. 'Why are there so many memorials lying here?' asked Ben softly, suddenly remembering the graves of his parents.

The hermit was silent, in his emerald eyes there was a glint of sadness flashing by his extinguishing features. He began slowly. 'A battle was fought in the south. There were long, restless nights when brave souls sacrificed themselves during the besieging of Demonspit, the former capital of the Alpine Kingdom. So many tears poured. So much bloodshed. Many of the soldier's homes were in this land, in Heming.

'My father was in the campaign and he left us during the war. He said that he had no regrets and neither should we. Those were the last words he said to me,' he chuckled wryly. 'That was ten thousand years ago… time flies.' They listened to his story and after that, no one said a word for a long time.

The boat drifted towards the right shore. There was a small dock at where the end of the graves were. Ozin gestured for them to follow him. The grass rustled, and a rush of leaves blew across the tombs, landing on some, while others kept going. A warm gust of wind rolled over the cemetery as they walked together. Ozin came up to one of many graves, nested under a willow closest to the banks. He took out an umbrella and weaved a sentence in the air, glowing bright gold. The sentence wrote: 

10,353 years passed

The shimmering gold light lingered for a while before resting itself on the tombstone. The words engraved themselves on the stone and replaced the last one. Below that was a name written in bright gold:

You shall be missed,

Atreus Greensage

Osen stood there, promptly left for them to mourn, and returned to the boat without looking back.

They kept sailing down the river, the atmosphere still quite emotional. 'Well, I guess the ghouls didn't decide to come back after all. People say that they're afraid of a hermit's presence. That seemed to be true! Anyway, we are almost at our next destination – Heming. It's just a long walk after we get off the boat. I am actually excited to be back here again. The residence that I booked in Venton was way too vacant, it's kind of lonely there. This time's different though! I have a lot of good friends in Heming and I promise you it's going to be way more interesting!'

'Osen,' asked June quietly. 'What happened during that battle of Demonspit? Why did it happen?'

'That you would learn later,' replied Ozin. 'You need to understand the background information before we head off on our dangerous mission. But right now you just need to keep your head clear. Oh! We are here!' Ozin guided the boat to a slightly larger docking platform than Venton. 'We'll have to walk the rest of the way.'

Osen snapped his fingers and levitated Sammy along with them to make things easier, then they headed west as the sun slowly went past their heads and prepared to go down.

3

Shelby did not like his customers. He even yells at some of them when he gets particularly annoyed. Customers are the hardest things to deal with under Alphilas's Green Earth. It's always 'Shelby, you don't have mugs? Who drinks coffee with paper cups?' or 'I asked for 2 shots of wine, not two entire cups!'' and 'My baby is allergic to peanuts you know (even though they never said)'.

Today he's especially pissed because one of his customers decided to sue his bar for 'unsafe conditions'. He ended up attending court and was fined $2,000 wurtz. He was at it for the entirety of the afternoon after the rumours of him dealing drugs to Nomadiran businessmen spread through the entire town of Heming. I'm out of my luck today. He sighed. All I really wanted was to have a day without issues. Who knows how many centuries I've got left in me. When I go to hell I'm damn sure I won't miss this world. My life is so miserable.

He was just about to doze when a gang of young adults burst in through the door, guns pointed in every direction. This caused an immediate panicking effect and people started to hide under tables and behind chairs. A wrinkly old man was outraged by this and decided to stand up and scold one of the youths. He was knocked out cold on the floor as one of the youths pistol-whipped him on the forehead. Shelby witnessed all of this happen and decided to watch and remain quiet.

'Heads up, ya wrinkly old bartender,' ordered the supposed gang leader with no self-esteem whatsoever. 'Give me the money and we won't shoot you.' He held Shelby at gunpoint. 'Oy, ya hear me?' Shelby ignored him and instead fiddled with an empty wine glass, clearly not showing the slightest sign of fear. The youth was furious. He cocked the pistol and yelled, 'Who do you think you are? I'm gonna fire in 5…'

'Who do you think you are?' said Shelby coldly. A hint of murder gleamed in his eyes. He set the wine glass on the counter, sat down and made eye contact with the youth. A bead of sweat ran down the youth's forehead. 'Why are you looking at me like that, ya dried up old bag? Don't you value your life?'

'I think you don't value yours, son,' said Shelby ominously. 'Because to be, you're just another annoying customer I have to deal with.

'I usually won't harm my payees, but you are a special case. I think you deserve special treatment.'

The youth was panicking now. 'You think you can take on ten of us? Don't be ridiculous.'

Shelby raised an eyebrow. ''Scuse me. Ten of you? I don't see anyone.' The gang leader gulped and turned, half-expecting what had happened, and as promised no one was behind him. 'And if you're wondering where they went-' Shelby waved a hand. The door behind the counter opened, and a huge muscular man wearing an apron carried out nine unconscious young robbers with one hand who were all tied up together. It looked unnaturally tedious. 'Bravo, Franko. It appears that we have invited in nine extra guests tonight.' He looked back at the youth frozen in horror. The youth turned at the door impulsively and prepared to run. Shelby foresaw this and made an eye movement. The door slammed shut. 'This is my place, brat. You don't just come in and leave as you please,' Shelby hissed. The huge man threw a fork at the nuisance's forehead at light speed. His mouth dropped open before falling on the polished wooden floor, out cold.

As you can tell by now, Shelby is a hermit. He is a middle-aged man with sleek features. His thick eyebrows and dark, brown eyes can penetrate your soul. The tall, buffed Alpino is Franko. His friend and the cook of the Inn. When a customer grumbles about the food, Shelby would either say nothing and wave them off or he would smirk and say, 'Tell that to Franko.' The customer would either go back to their seat, be intimidated or go home, permanently.

Shelby was just about to send the gangsters home when the front door opened again—by itself this time and in came someone who brightened up his day. A hooded figure strolled in, ignoring the still terrified crowd looking at him from their hiding places. 'Bravo, Shelby, pretty interesting day you had there, ain't it? Man, I'm hungry.'

Shelby beamed. 'Osen, my good friend. Is it really necessary for you to cover up your face like that? Put it there, let's have a drink!' Ozin pulled down his hood. 'Folks! You know it's a good time to drink when the hermit himself from the council shows up at my Inn!' exclaimed Shelby. 'I hope that minor incident didn't stir up your great mood, so drink up!' People cheered as Franko skillfully threw beer jugs at the guest tables, after which he returned to the cash register and gave both Ozin and Shelby bottled whiskeys. 'Thank you,' said Ozin poshly, and then gave a playful laugh. 'Man,' started Ozin. 'I haven't seen you guys in over five years!'

'I know 'right?' grinned Shelby, 'must have been busy with the council. You look worn out.'

'Yeah, I've been searching,' replied Ozin, chugging the pint furiously. 'The mission is finally getting somewhere.' 

'You mean… did you find them? The Germans that we needed?'

'Indeed,' replied Ozin. 'Although I don't want to reveal them to the public yet. They're currently hidden in my pocket dimension.'

'You want a room for the night?' asked Shelby. 'Perfect thing. There's not much bookings in the premium lounges, you can just check in now.'

'Oh, that's very generous of you. Are you sure you're fine with us going in there for free?' proclaimed Ozin.

'Absolutely,' smiled Shelby. 'We've been friends since primary school, and besides, you did empty out those guys' holsters, so I get to return the favour.'

4

'That was… violent,' proclaimed June. 'We just got here and people tried to rob the inn.'

'Happens a lot these days,' sighed Ozin. 'Ever since the Talismans went missing, the council has been losing their reputation. People began causing riots on the streets because "the end is near" as far they're concerned.'

They came out of Ozin's pocket dimension (which, resembled a nice house for about 15 minutes) and observed their room. At the end of the hallway was a living room. A nice chandelier hung from the centre of the ceiling in the middle were leather sofas surrounding a round carpet with a radial pattern; the walls were engraved with paintings of landscapes with golden-rimmed frames; the room was heated up and enlightened by a running fireplace. Going away from the living room were five doors that led to four bedrooms and a bathroom. 'I can't believe we're only staying here for a night,' exclaimed Ben. 'This feels like a place for the president to stay for a night.'

'The inn's bigger than you think,' said Ozin. 'My friend is very sentimental about the guests' living conditions. Renting in this county is pretty expensive compared to the capital. And if it doesn't it doesn't make you feel special, I don't know what will.'

'It's weird to be hiding from everybody in this place,' June frowned. 'I feel like I don't belong here.'

'It's still too early for your secret to be revealed,' said Ozin grimly. 'If there's anything that I know about society, you won't be welcomed. Instead, you will be discriminated against and die because of it.' Ben took a sharp breath. 'If you're interested, there has never been a German inside of the Alpine realm for over sixty thousand years. The last time a recorded German entered the realm it was a caveman who accidentally entered the Atlantis gate via the Mediterranean Sea. The poor guy lived for six months before starving to death because everyone turned him away at their front doors.'

The room went quiet once more, with the fire crackling in the background. Ozin shuffled across awkwardly. 'Either way, you'll be fine. I promise.'

'It's still quite early for us to go to sleep, can you tell us more about where we'll be going?' asked Ben.

'We'll be leaving quite early tomorrow, like really early,' replied Ozin. 'We set off to the king's palace, fifty miles from Heming, where we'll be informed with the council.' He set a map on the table. 'The tower of oblivion is east of King's palace, a full moon is happening in about 3 days, and that's where we'll be going.

'Depending on the direction of which the three of you felt, we would have to improvise with the plan. But generally, each Talisman reacts differently—The one that's the furthest is usually the first one to react. You will hallucinate when the moon draws in the iron in your blood, as a signal in your brain will reach the Talisman and visualise its rough location. I hope I've explained it simply – it's a very complicated thing that we don't have enough knowledge of.'

'That's okay,' said June. 'We'll just have to see what happens.'

'Glad you understand,' said Ozin before leaving the living room. He went to his bedroom and closed the door.

5

A car passed by the empty streets, and a child was playing on the swings. The metal chains creaked each time he swung. It was turning nighttime as fewer and fewer people strolled by the park. The boy continued swinging, seeming to forget the time. A man walked up to the boy and whispered to him something. At first, the boy's smile faded, replaced by surprise. Soon angry tears flowed down the boy's round cheeks as he wept silently, with crickets chirping somewhere near. The streetlights illuminated their figures and cast a shadow along the sidewalk. The man prompted the boy to follow him but he refused, crying louder now. Not knowing what to do, the man grabbed his hand and pulled the boy along. The boy screamed, writhing and struggling in his wake. The street lights flickered as the man tried to calm the boy down. The street lights went out completely, the crickets stopped, replaced by darkness as an ear-piercing engine noise started, then the headlights and the eerie sound of the swing still creaking as the only thing left as the car drove off into the complete darkness. 

'Ben…' Someone was whispering his name. Mother?

'Come and give mummy a hug…'

'No,' he said in tears.

'Come and give me a hug…'

'You're not real,' he whimpered in fear.

'The tumour is ready…'

'Mother!'

'Come and let me eat you…'

'NO!'

'NO!' Ben jolted awake shouting, startling himself. 

It was just a bad dream. He said to himself, hyperventilating.

What is the time? He wondered. 2:15 am.

He wiped the sweat off his forehead. His PJs were sticking onto his body. The room went quiet, crickets sang somewhere outside the window. There was a large old-fashioned mirror on the other end of the room. He saw a pale boy staring back at him, his jawline clearly visible under the silver moonlight. His eyes were slick and wide, but his brows were furrowed self-consciously. There seemed to be a hint of sorrow in those dark, brown eyes. Who am I? He questioned. He's had self-doubt before, and his stomach churns uncomfortably when he does. He threw off the blankets, lay down, shut his eyes, and hoped to fall back asleep. He heard a faint noise of a door opening and was instantly alert. He opened his eyes wide as he looked in the direction of the door. It wasn't his.

Ben crept out of his bed, tip-toed his way to the door, and put his ear on the wooden frame. He heard footsteps shuffling across the carpet, and then there was nothing at all.

He opened the door—the living room was dark and silent, with the fireplace almost burning out. He walked quietly to the sofa and saw June sitting by herself in her PJs, her knees held close to her chest and her head lying on the armrest. Her eyes were closed, but she must have noticed, 'Ben, did I wake you up?' she whispered, startling him. 

'No,' replied Ben. 'I just had a nightmare about something.' He went over and sat by her side, 'What about you?'

'I couldn't sleep,' whispered June, her voice barely audible.

The dimly lit room was so tense that Ben thought his heart might explode. Nothing could be heard except for their breathing.

'We have to leave pretty early tomorrow. We should both try and get some rest,' suggested Ben. 'What's wrong?'

'I miss everyone,' she sobbed. 'I'm so afraid. I don't even know what's happening anymore.' She stopped, letting Ben cradle her legs into his lap. 'Have you ever wondered how easy it is for a person to die?' Ben nodded, meeting her eyes.

'I know it must hurt,' he answered. 'I know.' 

'It's amazing how much a person can change in the course of a few days,' said June, forcing a smile.

'This past trauma that we experience can let us appreciate what we at least still have.' said Ben. 'And maybe that's the good part of it.'

'I don't know what to do. I was lost before and I still am,' Her voice was overwhelmed with emotion.

'Ever since the tsunami, I'm beginning to realise what's worth living for,' said Ben softly. 'The people that I love.' He held her hand and gripped it tightly, 'I can help you find the way.' Light sparkled in her eyes, and Ben wasn't sure of it until she reached up and kissed him. Their lips touched and instantly he threw away all of the stress and calamity that the disaster had caused him. His heart was beating out of his chest and his nerves relaxed pleasurably. He could feel her breath going past his ear and he embraced her tightly, not wanting to let go. Eventually, they did, and he felt light-headed in the warm living room. 

She smiled brightly, 'Well that wasn't so bad, was it?' He shook his head longingly. 'I haven't felt the pain since we entered the Alpine realm, so that's a good sign.' Her smile faded when she noticed the reddish cracks above her right knee that looked like a forked lightning strike had not gone. 'Yet I'm curious to find out what the hell this thing is.'

'Does it hurt when I touch it?' asked Ben gently. 

She dug her nail hard into it, and shrugged, 'It feels surprisingly cold.' 

Ben was intrigued but said nothing about it. 'I wonder what season of the year it is here.'

'Probably summer,' June lay back down, staring at the ceiling.

'Probably,' murmured Ben, his eyes drooped as he slipped back into sleep.

6

She woke up two hours later when she heard Ozin open his bedroom door. She snapped her head to the side. Ben was still sleeping, his arm still wrapped around her back. She quietly crept behind Ozin. Ozin shut the door behind his back and yelled something unintelligent when he turned. 

'Geez, you gave me a scare,' Ozin said astoundedly. 'Are you hungry? I'm going to make some breakfast.'

'Osen, what is the curse of Forklör?' she asked casually.

Osen froze in place and looked at her, his eyes penetrating and pensive. June drew back a sharp breath and looked away like she said something forbidden and dirty. 'I'm not trying to be piquant, I'm just curious.'

'I understand how you feel,' replied Ozin empathetically. 'But I really don't have a relevant answer to give you.'

'Why not?'

'Because Gorowrath himself struggles to understand it.'

He stood, eyes piercingly staring at the wall in front of him. 'It was meant to be a gift for the king of Atlantis at the time, a blessing. A scroll written in the original preserved Atlanta language which only Atlantas could understand.

'The king received the gift and accepted it reverently, but suddenly died four weeks later. The doctors could not give a diagnosis at the time. It was proclaimed a stroke. The king died with the scroll still clutched to his hands, however, his entire body was covered in thick, red bloodshot –' he pointed accordingly to her wound, '– yet there were no signs of any injuries. After the king's death, the Atlantas burnt the scroll into dust, believing it would destroy the curse. Then, they found that the king's bloody marks disappeared with it, ultimately making people think that that was the end of it. Which turned out to not be the case,' He looked unfortunately at her. ' And to be honest, I thought it was gone too.'

'I believe you,' sighed June, looking down at the floor. 'But there's no evidence saying that the scroll killed the Atlanta King, yes?'

'No, but all of the rumours suggest so,' replied Ozin.

'What was written on the scroll?'

'That's the catch, only Atlantas and people who know the language can read it, and barely anyone saw it before they burnt the thing, so trying to find information that was destroyed tens of thousands of years ago would be nearly impossible. Only Atlantas can live that long.'

'Atlantas…' mused June, scratching her chin. 'Where is this… Atlantis place?' 

'Atlantis is several hundred metres below the Vandorean Sea, visitors must request permission to enter the geyser barrier. Unfortunately, Alpine and Atlantis lost contact a while ago… because the countries don't like each other very much… specifically the kings themselves.' said Ozin.

'Would it be possible for one of the Talismans to be down there?' asked June.

'Like I said, you know most of the things I do, the important things. Coral City is isolated from the rest of the world and is not authorised by the magic council. They have laws different from what we have here.'

'Why did Gorowrath give the former Atlanta King the curse of Forklör? If he wasn't even familiar with their language.'

'Well, actually, he was a known expert in the language. The base forms of spells are encoded with it. Most of the magic on this earth cannot be harvested, purified, or used unless it is cast with a specific sequence and frequency of this code. The Atlanta King at the time had an incurable disease since birth, disabling his ability to use his hands. 

'He overheard that the Nomadrian King was the most powerful warlock at the time, and was willing to have Gorowrath cure the disease in exchange for his fortune. Gorowrath accepted his offer and spent the next fifty years of his life experimenting with new and more powerful magical effects, it was also during this time that they had placed the three mystic Talismans into the Tower of Oblivion, which further strengthened the magic construct.

'Gorowrath did warn the king of the dangers that magic can cause to one's physical form, but desperate, the king insisted he modifies the living crap out of the magic to fix his body. Without any choices, Gorowrath wrote the scroll in full, all 6,000 characters. The blessing first fixated on its user's brain. The king became hysterical, slowly sinking into madness as he watched his hands work again. Paranoid, he kept it by his side at all times. As days passed, the king lost more and more weight, his sunken looked all dried up and he shrunk considerably. The bloodshot came in quickly. First his eyes, then his cheeks, then down his neck, but he didn't seem to mind as he caressed the cursed accessory, mumbling nonsense into it at night. He died while still sleeping.' Ozin finished the last sentence grimly.

'Is the same thing going to happen to me?' June whispered, rubbing across her thigh self-consciously.

'I don't know,' said Ozin flatly. 'As long as you're aware of it, but not becoming obsessed with it, it won't be able to consume your mind and flesh. That rule applies to all of the curses.'

'Okay,' said June quietly. 'Understood.'

'And, if you're really worried, we can check it with Atlanta doctors next time I have a conference there,' said Ozin. 'We should wake them up soon, Franko should be finished cooking in fifteen minutes.'

'I thought you were gonna make it,' said June matter-of-factly.

'That's because I lied. I suck at cooking,' said Ozin in a sing-song voice.

'I was overestimating you.' June wiped at her mouth.

'Sorry to disappoint you,' said Ozin sarcastically.

7

'This is so delicious!' exclaimed Sammy, stuffing his mouth with two stuffed burritos and ravioli served with tomato sauce. June and Ben were also enjoying the breakfast. There was nacho cheese, pancakes and egg salad. 'How did you learn to cook all of these diverse cuisines?'

'Oh, believe me, I was one of the few lucky people who got to visit the German Realm from winning a lottery,' Franko laughed. 'I got to see all of the food from the world, and when I see something, I can cook it. Special talent of mine, I guess.'

Shelby and Ozin giggled like kids behind their backs, 'Franko never talks to strangers unless he's bribed. Well, I didn't think I would live to see this day.' Franko overheard this and gave them both an intimidating glare, which zipped their mouths up faster than you could do a zipper.

'Thank you for the yummy food, Mr Franko!' said Sammy politely. 'I will never forget it.'

Shelby grinned to himself as he lit an Alpine Smotherly ('This is a special herb that can be both smoked and used to make tea,' He explained to the three children. 'Any child that is one thousand or older can smoke this.' 'Wait, how old is that equivalent to a human child?' 'About 3 years old?' 'So we can all smoke?' 'Nope.' 'Why not?' 'You're not one thousand yet! Hahahaha.' 'Unfair.'). These kids are so wholesome. He thought, couldn't resist smiling. They are going to accomplish great things. I know it. He blew out a puff of smoke, savouring it. They remind me of Ozin and Franko when we were younger.

When they packed up their stuff, they found strange clothing on their beds. 'Osen, what are these robes for?' asked June. 

'Formal Alpine clothing,' answered Ozin. 'You only have to wear it at the palace.'

'Osen, are there any everyday clothes? We need to blend in with the crowd eventually,' asked Ben.

'You're right. We can't afford to keep letting you wear the same dirty, scuffed shirts and pants that you wore before entering the realm. There's probably a few that fit inside the closet,' suggested Ozin, not looking up.

Ben frowned when he scoured through the closet—the outfits were mostly made of silk, with streaked line patterns that were green against the either pink or red colour scheme, they did look like something Alpinos would wear. There was one problem though. The clothes are too damned small. He chewed his lips in frustration. Indeed they were—only able to fit Sammy's height. The long pants were short, and the shorts were even shorter. The longest pants June could find only covered down to her knees, exposing her calves and ankles. The robes were just able to fit them—a black and white collar with the front and back dyed like blue jeans. The sleeves were embedded with dark blue borders that kept the top in shape. Once they were done, Ozin threw some black veils over their faces and they walked out of the inn. There were only a few people at the place at this time in the morning, and they couldn't have cared less about who those people were under the veils.

A chariot was waiting for them outside, the windows were covered by curtains. The wheels were made of polished wood and the cart was decorated with gold and red paint. Two horses were tied to the carriage and the charioteer sat motionless on the driver's seat. June gave Ozin a puzzled look, 'What are we from, the 1840s?' she asked.

'The king likes quaintness,' replied Ozin coolly.

The chariot took off, shaking unsteadily as the four of them sat in the carriage. As they left town, the road became rougher, and they constantly bumped against the iron frame of the crate. After what seemed like two hours, the castle came into their view. Sammy and Ben looked nauseous as they put their hands over their stomachs and mouths. They got off the chariot and Ben retched on his knees, struggling to keep himself from throwing up. When the wave of nausea passed, he stood up again, looking at them awkwardly. Ozin saluted to the charioteer, the charioteer saluted back briefly, and then sped off with the black horses, not looking back.

The front of the castle was guarded by two men, both wearing armour. This is starting to get medieval. thought June. They entered the main hall, lines of statues and pillars lay on either side. Some were funny-looking, and others looked terrifying. The one that intrigued them the most was the golden gryphon, staring coldly down at their faces with pupilless eyes. A voice echoed out solemnly down the hallway, coming from every direction. 'The king wishes to see you,' boomed a voice. The throne came into view as it seemed to be shrouded in a mystical fog. 

'Who goes there?' asked the shadow on the throne.

'Your majesty, it's Ozin Greensage and his accomplices,' Ozin bowed down to his feet and prompted them to do the same. 

'I see,' said the figure, waving them off. 'You may stand.'

The cloud lifted, and there sat the king of Alpine. He was wearing casual royal clothing and his legs were resting on the seat. His physical appearance reminds you of someone in their early 70s—chubby, worn out, and has wrinkles in every place you could think of. His pale green hairs looked like Ozin's – but more curly and out of place. The king looked so innocent-minded, his eyes flickering all over the place and unaware. Bad habits. thought Ozin. Eventually, the king remembered what he was here for. 'Apologies for my self-effacism. Urm… who are you again?' He looked at Ozin blankly. 

'Amnesia,' whispered Ozin. 'It's helpless for him.' He looked back at the king. 'Your majesty, I have brought in humans from the German realm, who are the keys to helping us find and collect the missing Talismans,' he paused for a few seconds for clarity, 'I am hereby requesting permission to gain passage up to the Tower of Oblivion.'

The king fell silent for a few minutes or so. The air tensed. Ben found it hard to breathe. Finally, he said, 'Very well. You may go.'

'So, was that a yes or a no?' whispered June impatiently. 'My knees are getting sore bowing down like this.'

'Your majesty?' started Ozin. 'Are we getting somewhere with our important discussion?'

The king leaned forward. 'Discussion? Were we discussing something? I can't remember.'

'Your majesty, I politely ask for you to pay my attention,' said Ozin, struggling to maintain his composure. 'This concerns the Talismans.'

The word pulled the king out of his daydream. His eyes widened. He squinted at them cunningly. 'Talismans? Why didn't you tell me before?'

'Well, I was trying to say that –'

'Enough with the babbling,' said the king. 'This is very important, Ozin, Germans. Am I clear?'

'Yes, your majesty,' they chanted.

'The permanent key pass is yours,' announced the king curtly, giving them a stiff nod. 'I, Sebastian the sixth sponsor you with this crucial mission as –' he paused to think about it. 'All of our lives depend on it? Sounds good to me!'

June gave Ozin a concerned look as they took off without saying another word. Another chariot was waiting for them at the front entrance. 'Why are there so many guards following us?' asked Sammy anxiously. Ozin looked back: there were at least fifty Alpinos all wearing pure gold armour, gladiator helmets and holding spears in their hands. Even though they were nowhere near the German's height, they are nonetheless intimidating. Ozin turned around and picked up his pace, followed by Ben, June and Sammy. When they got out of the front gate, Ozin halted instantly, a smile on his face. He turned and faced the soldiers and waved, 'Farewell!' The soldiers simultaneously turned and raised hands. 'Farewell!' they chanted in unison.

'What the hell was that all about?' asked Ben, dumbfounded.

'The king has a malicious kind of humour,' answered Ozin.

8

'...2 days left,' mused Ozin, staring at the sun dreamily while their chariot took off. 

'Where are we going now?' asked June.

Osen waved his hands, and the curtains closed in on themselves. 'Vastichæn,' he replied profoundly. 

'Vastichæn?'

'You got it right first try. And yes, we're heading off to Vastichæn before the full moon,' explained Ozin. 'Vastichæn is the biggest metropolis in the country, and the most populated in all of Alpine. I have been there very frequently in the last few centuries.' he yawned. 'The city was built by the very same people that founded Demonspit before it was demolished.'

'Demolished?'

'After the destruction of our previous capital Demonspit, which was 10,000 years ago. They had decided to completely abandon it and move the capital to Vastichæn, but Vastichæn needed serious expansion, so they had to put down the old walls and expand it massively. It became the first city to be completely rid of its walled borders.'

'Why didn't they just rebuild the old capital?'

'Ah, good question,' Ozin rambled on. 'Thanks to our good friend Ashfang (not), all of the basic infrastructure, which was made of wood back then, burnt to the ground, and was covered in feet-deep volcanic ash, making the place uninhabitable. Remember Pompeii from your realm? Yeah, like that but there's ten times more mummified people and ashes.'

'Wasn't Demonspit besieged by demons? What was Ashfang's motive behind teaming up with demons?'

'We don't know why Ashfang did what he did, but he must have his reason. Remember, Ashfang is an intelligent being and he can still think even in his spiritual form. The demons on the other hand were ordered by the Demonlord, and the Demonlord hates specifically Alpinos for Ashfang's sake, and their own sake.' 

'Isn't the Demonlord just a bigger, tougher demon?' asked Sammy.

'Demonlord, unlike other demons, has a higher IQ. An average demon's IQ is around 50 to 60 while he has an IQ of 100. I have no idea how he is so smart, maybe he was a mutation in their genetic code. Either way, that made him rule over the demons.' said Ozin, almost disappointed.

'I hope we don't have to face him while we're trying to find the talisman.' said Ben.

'If there's one thing that I must say during this: prepare for the worst and hope for the best. That's the only way to succeed in this mission.' proclaimed Ozin.

'This is going to either going to go really good or really bad,' guessed June.

They didn't talk much for the rest of the way. The whole time they were travelling across the region there was always the same ethereal landscape. It reminded June and co. of the Alps. It was an endless sea of green grass everywhere they looked. The rocky mountains in the distance were capped with permanent snow. Even though the place was only present to them for a few days, it felt like their forever home.

'Was the king insane?' asked June.

'I can't blame the guy, all of his family members are dead. By old age or not by old age. He's in his late 18000s and us hermits have placed a bet on how long he's got left before he suffers a heart attack.' said Ozin sympathetically.

'How tragic…' mused June.

'Osen, how long do we still have to go?' asked Sammy sophistically.

'I have no idea… perhaps an hour and a half?'

'I'm so boooooored!' whined Sammy.

'Oh give me a break!' said Ozin frustratedly. 'Not my fault we can't board a train! The king stopped the train service near the castle a millennia ago. How quaint of him. Keep reminding me of that.'

Recognition.

After two more hours of what Sammy would describe as 'suffering', they reached Vastichæn accordingly. It was nearly nighttime again. ('How long's each day?' 'Don't remember.' '18 hours?' 'Yes.' 'Really?' 'Probably.') The lanterns were brightly lit in the night sky. Hot air balloons hovered over the crowded streets, and banners were hung festively as decorations from building to building.

'Is it some kind of festival today? What a coincidence,' whispered June under her veil.

'It's happening every day this year,' remarked Ozin. 'See those signs?'

'"Remembering Demonspit. 10,000 years later."' read Ben, 'Has it been exactly 10,000 years since the incident?'

'Yes.' hissed Ozin, 'It's truly remarkable. The festival only happens once every five millenias.'

Vastichæn was way bigger than they first thought. June had lost count of how many streets and alleyways they had gone through. As they went more and more towards the centre of the city, the altitude also went up quite a bit. They could see most of the cityscape as they climbed higher, the lamps highlighting the streets; there were fewer people the higher they went, as the city went on for miles. The bright golden light illuminated the sky in patterns of crisscrosses. It was dark enough to see the stars twinkling in the night. I wonder what planet we are on. thought June nostalgically. One of those must be the solar system, which contains one of the planets that we call home. Ozin read this but said nothing, emotions emerging from inside of him.

'So where do we stay at tonight?' asked Ben fondly.

'The council department,' said Ozin, noticing them disappointed, then added, 'It's going to be the best place to stay in Vastichæn. It's luxurious.' He gave them an assured look.

'Do we get to join the council meeting?' asked Sammy.

'Well, actually yes,' replied Ozin. 'As long as you keep quiet and make yourself look formal, I'm sure the hermits wouldn't mind. Oh, and they probably also would like to have a word with you.' he added.

They turned a corner and recalled the street lights from earlier, but there was nobody around them. In front of them sat a large, uniform building that faced them. The windows were brightly lit and the front door was a smaller version of the palace's one. A frosty white aura surrounded the building, sending a shiver running down their spines. 'Was that from the air conditioner inside?' June wanted to doubt her own words, but couldn't.

'No,' said Ozin casually. 'They don't want pests in there, so they enchanted the area with colder temperatures. You'll get used to it.' 'You'll get used to it' seemed like a great fit to describe most of the weird stuff from this place. thought June glumly. As they walked through the entrance, she felt increasingly colder as goosebumps began to appear on her skin. She hugged herself, letting out a sharp breath. Her breath turned into fog as she trembled uncontrollably. She looked to her left – everyone else was doing the same, including Ozin. Finally, they turned another corner and opened the door to their right. Almost on cue, a gush of warm air rushed at them. The temperature difference was making June and Co. question their existence. Inside was a high-hung ceiling with a huge chandelier floating over their heads. The chandelier seemed to move on its own—there wasn't any rope attached to it. It drifted mindlessly around the ceiling, sometimes far, sometimes near. A rectangular table sat in the middle of the room, made out of oak; A total of twelve chairs surrounded the table. There were only three people in the room—all dressed up in woven silk. In contrast, Ozin was wearing a casual T-shirt and looked at them awkwardly, not knowing what to do.

'Nice clothes you got there, Ozin,' said one of the hermits. Ozin smiled sheepishly.

'Sorry lads, I was so busy bringing our guests here, I forgot to change.' said Ozin apologetically.

'Really, Ozin. Then why didn't you go to the festival with the rest of the group?'

Osen stood, speechless. 'I thought you'd know better than that.'

The hermits looked at him, confused. 'Was there supposed to be a meeting today?'

Osen realised what was happening and scolded. 'I have literally travelled thousands of miles through space for over 2 years. I give you the council to keep and this is what you suggested to me the first thing I came back.'

'We have everything control,' said one of the hermits. Ozin's expression made him flinch.

'I see that you have everything under control,' smiled Ozin murderously. 'Then I'm sure you have also noticed this.' He walked over to June, who was frozen in shock. 'Show them, June.' he said coldly. She knew what he meant—the bloodshot that had been so terrifyingly familiar was embedded unnaturally in her old wound. She slowly lifted up her leg sleeve, revealing the bloody curse that was too vivid to look at. The hermits from the council stared at it in terror, all casualness from before was replaced by sheer anxiety. Their faces were drained of all of their blood. Somewhere in the distance, a loud firework exploded into the night sky.

'Osen…' they inhaled in panic. 'What have you brought in? What have you done?'

'Scared now, huh?' demanded Ozin. 'Where was all of the cockiness that you had earlier!?'

The light in the room flickered. Ben guessed Ozin had caused it. 'Okay, calm down, Ozin,' pleaded the oldest hermit. 'I confess we haven't done exactly how you told us, but bringing in a German with a presumed curse of Forklör on her is against all legalisation.'

'Are you blaming what you did on me?' snapped Ozin angrily. He slammed his palm on the table and a shockwave of air sent wind blowing wildly around the room. Ben watched all of this happen in half a minute, his eyes wide open. He was stunned by Ozin's powers as well as intrigued by how things were developing. 'This isn't going to end well… for us,' he muttered to June, and she nodded nervously, clutching Ben's hand tightly.

One of the hermits stood up suddenly and grabbed the air. The wind stopped in an instant, and the flying chandelier froze in place; the clock on the rear wall stopped ticking and the sound of the fireworks from afar deafened instantly. The only things in the room that weren't frozen in place were the people.

'Really? You had to stop time for that?' said Ozin breathlessly. 'I have to apologise for my tantrum. The anger has passed. Can we talk now?'

'First of all,' interrupted the elderly hermit. 'You cannot be angry at us after what you did.' He said matter-of-factly.

'What about the rest of the council? Are you going to bring them back any time soon?'

'I will do so now,' answered the hermit. 'Everyone, please keep clear of the walls.' They did as he was told. He sat down elegantly and tapped the table three times with a wooden cane. In response, the walls cracked open, revealing bricks from the exterior. The bricks then expanded and overlapped each other. Shapes of Alpinos began to appear from inside the bricks and slowly morphed into their original form. Suddenly, there were over twenty hermits inside the room, who all took a seat around the table, all except for Ozin and his comrades.

'Seriously, Alister. No one had nearly as much fun in centuries,' said a young, tall hermit unhappily. 'Look at their faces.'

'Silence,' ordered the eldest hermit curtly. 'We have enough surprises in here already.'

'So, why did you call us back?'

Alister took a deep breath and eyed each of them. 'Do you know what is so urgent that I had to ruin your day off?'

'No,' chorused the hermits, and then whispered excitedly.

'Silence,' yelled Alister. 'This feels like a classroom. The break is over.' The whispers stopped abruptly. 'You are here, because a few minutes ago, our chief-exclusive officer, Ozin, brought back what was thought to be gone for forty-thousand years.' he declared.

'The curse of Forklör?' suggested a hermit wearing spectacles.

'That's right.'

The sentence brought immense silence to the room again, and they looked at each other nervously.

'The second remnant that Gorowrath had terrified us with, had reemerged from the German Realm.' More frightened whispers from the crowd. 'And it is right here in the room with us.' Alister looked at Ozin. 'Osen, what do you have to say?'

Osen walked up from the corner, unhindered by the tense atmosphere. 'Folks,' he started. 'First I want to clear a disclaimer: These Germans are still children, and they don't mean any harm. The youngest is relevant to about 1,200 years old in Alpine age. They suffered an immense calamity before they arrived here despite their extreme levels of synph and they definitely deserve to be treated like us as an equal.

'Next, I want to say that it has not yet been confirmed that the German girl carries the curse of the Forklör, so don't jump to your ridiculous conclusions.

'Now, regarding the curse of Forklör—even if it is—will not have a deadly effect on its victims as it did to the Atlanta king, as the source of the curse was destroyed millennia ago. Whether or not the effects will impact her as a person, only time can tell.' Ozin gave an assured look at June, who was feeling extremely guilty and uncomfortable in this conversation. 'Any questions?'

The whole room started whispering again. Ben put a hand around her shoulder and pulled her closer to him defensively as if the whole world was against her. Sammy muttered something in Ozin's ear hesitantly, and he shook his head defiantly.

'What do you want us to do with them, Ozin?' said Alister tiredly. 'I'm running out of ideas. Since we can't exile them, or kill them, this hurts my head.'

'What do you suggest me to do?' asked Ozin.

'Lock them up and monitor them?' suggested Alister, not showing a slight hint of mercy.

'No! That's way too inhuman,' said Ozin frightenedly.

'We have to quarantine them in some way,' suggested a young hermit.

'The curse isn't infectious… wasn't,' corrected Ozin, hating himself.

'We have to make a decision tonight,' said Alister flatly. 'Tomorrow is the full moon and we don't have time to waste another sixty days for it. The world is falling apart, Ozin. Time is precious on this occasion.'

'We don't,' replied Ozin. 'Just leave them with me, and I'll take them to the council apartment.'

'I'm afraid that won't do,' said Alister, not letting it go. 'The curse of Forklör is no joke. It caused the death of a king. And the king at least knew some magic powers.'

'What do you want to do then?' shouted Ozin frustratedly. 'Take them to Atlantis and show the doctors there? We can't enter the geyser barrier anymore, Alister.'

'If we can retrieve the first talisman, maybe we'll be able to use its power to undo her curse, with all due respect.' said Alister.

After a long time of thinking, Ozin responded, 'It's definitely possible.' he concluded.

'It's not even a question. Gorowrath and Ozin III couldn't have built the talismans for show. We weren't allowed to use them before so we couldn't tell their true potential.' mused Alister.

'I'll think about it.' said Ozin, and ended the meeting without saying another word.