Gold light coiled forth again. It danced across his fingertips, twisting to and fro. Chance watched it, transfixed.
Huh. That’s funny. It’s just like dad said. Be thankful for something before it happens, and then it will. Never expected to actually see that working. It almost looks like flame, just… gold. And not hot.
The wisps instantly started to flicker, going from vaguely flamelike to a perfect replica of golden fire. Chance blinked. He pictured the light changing shape again and turning into a small disk. The golden energy moved, shaping into the shape he’d formed in his mind before fading away.
Chance resisted the urge to cheer. That probably would have brought every creepy thing in the alleys down on him, and he didn’t know how much use his magical mist was going to help there.
I’ve got magic! No idea what it does, but it’s magic! Thank you, Bob. Now, if you just show me how I’m supposed to get out of this alley, I’ll be eternally grateful.
Chance didn’t wait for a reply. He knew he wasn’t going to get one. He picked an alley and set back off, hopeful that the exit of this strange maze wasn’t too far.
Seconds turned to minutes and minutes stretched to hours. Chance’s optimism started to fade as he continued through the endless alleys, no closer to the exit than when he had started. There was absolutely no way to tell where he was. He tried climbing the walls several times, but they were just too tall and he couldn’t find purchase on the slick stone.
His stomach rumbled. He ignored it. He’d gone hungry before. There had to be an exit somewhere. He’d run into it eventually. He had to.
A click rang against the stone behind him. Chance froze, and it nearly cost him his life. A dark blur flung itself at him and he dove to the ground as an emaciated dog bounded over his head, snapping its jaws shut on thin air.
Chance thrust his hands forward and called on the golden mist. A small bolt of it leapt from his palm and struck the dog as it spun and charged at him again. Confusion flickered in its eyes for an instant, but it didn’t falter in its attack.
Cursing, Chance scrambled back. His foot hit a loose pebble at just the wrong angle and he went down in a tumble of limbs. His left knee snapped up, catching the dog straight in the chin and knocking it back with a crack.
Chance rolled over right as it lunged for him again, and he mistakenly drove his elbow into the creature’s nose while he was struggling to stand. It pulled back with a shocked whimper. Chance stared back at it, equally surprised.
Then he hit it with another blast of golden mist. The dog cocked its wiry head to the side, as if to ask him what he was thinking. Then it lunged at him again. As its claws pressed into the stone, one slid into a crack and lodged there.
Yowling, the dog drove itself into the ground face first. It ripped its claw free, snarling, and leapt at Chance once more. Chance dove out of the way, mistakenly clipping a wall with his shoulder.
For the second time that day, a loose brick pitched down and struck the monster square in the head. Bone crunched and it collapsed to the ground, dead.
Once was a coincidence. There’s no way that happens two times completely by accident.
Chance edged away from the dog, then scurried down an alley. It wasn’t a good idea to stick around in case something bigger and uglier came poking around. More importantly, he was starting to get an inkling of what his magic did.
It feels a bit disingenuous to call this luck. You can’t control luck, that defeats the whole point. But it doesn’t seem that far off. And, if it’s related to luck…
Chance pictured an arrow pointing him in the direction of civilization or, at least, a way to get out of the alleys. And then – nothing happened. He sighed, then set off once more. He didn’t make it more than a few alleys before another dog attacked.
He fought the beast off like he had the last ones. His stomach rumbled as he stared at its body. Chance shook his head and walked into the darkness. He wasn’t that hungry. Yet.
His resolve lasted all of three more days. While he managed to find a few more streams of water trickling down the buildings to just barely sate his thirst, Chance’s hunger only grew with every passing second.
Eventually, he couldn’t think of any other option. The next time he killed one of the small monsters, Chance decided to see what they tasted like. It took him by no surprise that the answer was awful.
Still, it was food. He tried not to think about the thousands of diseases he was probably exposing himself to as he ate the stringy, foul smelling meat. Somehow, it wasn’t the worst tasting food he’d ever had. It was a close runner-up, though.
Chance barely managed to finish a handful of food before his body rebelled against him. He gagged and heaved, but he didn’t let himself throw up. There wasn’t any other choice, and he wasn’t about to starve to death in these alleys.
Molten heat gathered below his heart and pulsed through his veins for a few minutes after he ate the monster. It slowly faded away and Chance continued on.
He lost track of how many days he wandered through the darkness or how many of the wretched monsters he fought. It had to have been at least a few weeks, but he couldn’t remember how many times night fell. The alleys always seemed to be in the shadow anyway, regardless of what time of day it was.
Chance slept in short bursts of only an hour or two at a time, awaking at the slightest noise or shift in the wind. Slowly, his heart burned less when he ate the mongrels. That didn’t make them taste any better, though.
And then – in the endless maze of identical roads, Chance saw something different. He immediately wished he didn’t.
Looming in the shadows of the alley he stepped into was the largest monster that he’d seen to date. The malnourished black dog loomed two heads above him, with spindly, warped legs that jutted out like those of a spider.
A head protruded from its back, lolling over to the side and dribbling drool onto the ground while its main head was currently buried in the bloody corpse of a smaller monster. Chance swallowed and took a step back, but it was too late.
The huge beast’s ears twitched and it pulled back, turning to face him and bearing teeth covered in viscera. A low, hacking growl built in its throat and it took a step toward him, favoring its front legs heavily.
Some detached portion of Chance’s mind observed that its back leg looked seriously injured by something, but the rest of him was too focused on the furious eyes boring into his skull.
He briefly considered running, but he immediately dismissed the notion. Injured or not, he was starving and weak. There would be no escaping this creature. Its hackles pulled back, almost as if it was laughing.
Blood dribbled from the warped creature’s mouth. Chance didn’t think it was possible to get uglier than the previous dogs, but this one had proven him wrong.
“I’m not done,” he whispered, his voice horse from disuse.
The monster lunged. Gold mist erupted around Chance and he lunged, throwing himself into its leg. The light traveled up the spindly limb, then dispersed. He scrambled back as the monster spun to follow him.
Nothing happened. For whatever reason, his power wasn’t sticking. Chance swallowed. He sent more golden mist flooding toward the monster, but it washed off the creature harmlessly.
With a bark that Chance was now certain to be a laugh, it scrambled toward him. Claws skittered against stone and its paw caught him as he dove, tearing four thin furrows through his shoulder.
Chance hit the ground hard, rolling to the side and scrambling to his feet, a wave of nausea washing over him as he rose. The malnourishment was catching up to him. He gritted his teeth.
“I won’t let it end like this, you hear me? Bob gave me another shot. I’m going to be something this time around.”
The monster cocked its head to the side, as if to say, are you sure about that?
A gangly paw caught Chance in the chest. His blood sprayed across the ground and he staggered, but he didn’t let himself fall. With a burst of strength he didn’t think he still had left, he sent his fist sailing out. It crashed into the monster’s jaw, snapping it back with a satisfying thud.
The monster snarled and lunged at him, wrapping its huge maw around his wounded left shoulder. Chance screamed as his bone cracked, but the spark of defiance within him would not be quenched.
Golden light flared around him, flooding into the monster’s mouth. He drove his right hand into the dog’s eye, digging his thumb into the socket. It popped and the monster screamed, its teeth tearing his body apart as it lurched back.
Still, Chance refused to fall. His breath came in ragged, furious gasps as the monster matched his gaze with its one remaining eye.
“I. Will. Not. Yield,” Chance spat, shoving the encroaching dizziness away. Warm blood dripped down his side, but it didn’t hurt nearly as much as it should have. He was pretty sure that was a bad sign. “Eat me while I stand. I’ll tear you apart on the way to your gullet.”
The monster obliged. It lunged at him again. Chance met its charge standing, just as he had promised. It went to bite his neck, but a foot hit the puddle of blood forming beneath Chance and it lost its balance, driving its head into his chest.
He thrust his hand into the monster’s other eye, screaming in defiance. Gold mist whipped around him in a furious maelstrom, lashing at the monster from every angle. A thrashing paw caught him in the stomach, ripping it open.
Pain exploded through Chance. Evidently, there was only so much that he could numb. A heavy weight settled over his shoulders, urging him to give in and pass out. He refused.
“I will not give. I’m going to be something more. I won’t waste this,” Chance hissed, the world flickering around him. At his feet, the monster thrashed and struggled to rise. Golden mist poured from its eyes. He wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating or not, but it almost looked like it was melting apart.
Still, it started to rise. Chance drew on every last scrap of energy he had while the monster was beneath him. He raised a foot and brought it down onto the beast’s head with a loud crack.
It’s skull cracked against the ground and the beast went limp. Its eyes flickered, and for an instant, an emotion passed through them that wasn’t rage. It was pity.
And then it was gone, the light blinking out. Blood poured from Chance, and he didn’t need a doctor to tell him that his declarations were for naught. He forced himself to look up at the sky, twisting and churning with purple energy.
“I’m sorry, Bob. Thanks, though. I appreciate…” he hacked, blood in his lungs blocking his airpipe until he coughed it out. “…the opportunity.”
Some tiny, defiant part of him kept him standing, even as the world grew cold. He’d meet whatever was waiting for him on his feet. And then, as his vision shrank down to a pinprick, something new appeared within it.
A man floated upside-down in the air before him, his legs in a yogi position. His tattered purple robes hung around him, and a limp monster was gripped in his pale, sallow hands. The man’s eyes shifted, two baleful pale spheres turning to look straight in his direction.
In spite of the rest of his body, the man’s head was twisted one hundred and eighty degrees so it was face-to-face with Chance. The monster’s body slipped from his hands, crumpling to the ground.
He raised a finger and pointed at Chance. The blood splattered across the ground leapt to his command, surging back into the boy’s body as his wounds sealed themselves shut.
“You,” the man whispered. His words were leathery and ancient, but each exuded pressure that demanded he be heard. “I know your Essence.”
Chance’s mouth was drier than it had ever been before. He took a step back, running his hands over newly healed flesh.
“I – I’m alive? Who are you?”
“A fascinating creature,” the man mused, ignoring him completely. “What strong will. And your Essence – yes. I know that Essence. You are familiar.”
“I don’t know you. I’m sorry,” Chance said, looking down at the corpse of the monster at his feet. He’d killed it. Somehow.
The man’s body rotated around his head and he uncrossed his legs, setting feet down on the ground with a slow sigh. “You should not be here.”
“I – yeah. I don’t want to be,” Chance said, gathering his resolve. Every fiber of his body screamed for him to turn and run down the alley, but even the slightest chance was better than nothing. “Can you help me get out?”
“Help,” the man said, rolling the word over in his mouth. “Your name. What is it?”
“Chance.”
“Chance. I am Yamish.”
You usually don’t give your name to someone you’re going to kill. Thank God.
“It’s, ah, nice to meet you, Yamish.” He had to force every word out from stiff lips. Even though Yamish wasn’t showing him any hostility, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was teetering on the edge of a precipice. Coming back from certain death wasn’t helping that feeling in the slightest.
“How did you arrive in this place?”
“I – I really don’t know. I died, I think. Then I arrived here.”
“A new arrival,” Yamish mused. “But not in the proper place. You are a curiosity.”
“Can you help me get out of here?” Chance asked. “Maybe to the place I was supposed to go?”
Yamish wet his lips with a pointed tongue. “Yes. We are of the same Essence. I will aid you. An investment.”
Yamish extended a hand, and Chance couldn’t help but notice that his fingers were just a little too long. There was an extra joint in each of them. He swallowed, then reached out and took the man’s hand. They shook.
Chance half expected something to happen, but nothing did. Yamish just released him, then extended a hand behind him, pressing it against the stone wall. The alley rippled and melted, forming into a new path. A faint light glimmered at the end of it, beckoning him forward.
“We will meet again,” Yamish said. “Do not return here of your own volition. Tell nobody of our accord or of my existence. Fail, and you will be no more. Go.”
Chance didn’t argue. He ran for the light like the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels. As far as he was concerned, they were. The light grew brighter, forcing him to squint as he ran toward it. And then he burst through, stumbling out onto a wide street. Chance slowed to a stop, his limbs trembling as the strength seemed to evaporate and he flopped to the ground, rolling over to stare up at the sky.
For the first time, he was able to get a look at the city’s skyline without the walls and shadows of the alleys to block it off. Towering skyscrapers rose above him, piercing into the beautiful purple haze. Massive islands floated in the air between them.
Blurs flew to and fro in the air, some larger than others. After a few moments, Chance realized that some of them were people. He wanted to cry, but he was so dehydrated that his body refused to give up the water.
He eventually managed to force himself back up. A glance in the direction of the alleys showed nothing. There was just a wall where there had once been an entrance. Chance shuddered. Standing with the help of a wall, he set off in the opposite direction and – with any luck – toward civilization.
The further Chance wandered down the road, the less aged it became. Lanterns with bobbing motes of orange and yellow light within them cropped up along the walkway, and the stones had less cracks and damage.
He pushed himself to walk faster, practically able to feel the escape to his torment. A faint clang reached his ears. Chance froze, but several more followed after it, followed by what he suspected to be someone yelling.
Chance broke into a run toward the noise. He crossed another empty street and sprinted up to an iron gate. Beyond it was a field of packed dirt, sectioned off into small arenas. Dozens of people stood within them, sparring with medieval weapons and armor.
Magic was interwoven with their movements, and Chance watched in mute awe as one man smashed another to the side with a fist of earth. Then his common sense took over once more and he shoved the gate open, stumbling inside.
On the nearest field, A gray-haired man in simple leather stood against a short, heavily armored opponent. Every single part of them was hidden by plate mail. Chance couldn’t even see a single speck of unprotected skin.
The armored figure swung a hefty warhammer at the man. Moments before the strike connected, the man moved his sword in a smooth motion, leveraging his bodyweight and shifting in close to his opponent, knocking the hammer to the side.
He drove his free hand into their helmet palm-first, knocking it back with a loud clang. The armored figure staggered back, dropping the hammer. With a grunt, the gray-haired man whipped his foot out, hooking it behind their legs, and knocked them off their feet. The armored figure iit the ground with a loud crash and a muffled groan of pain.
“Slow. Bad timing. Terrible posture,” the man rattled off, sheathing his sword and shaking his head. “Also, absolutely no magic usage. What are you doing? Are you trying to lose?”
“You don’t use Essence,” the man snapped, pulling the helmet off to reveal a head of curly brown hair. He looked young – only a little older than Chance. “It only seemed fair to do the same, Gibson.”
“Fair fighting is for dead men,” the gray-haired man who, Chance presumed was Gibson, replied. “And you are not nearly good enough to avoid using your Essence when fighting me. I don’t use my Essence because, if I did, you would get nothing at all from a sparring session. Idiot.”
Gibson paused, catching sight of Chance staring at him, his eyes wide and mouth slack as he tried to form words with his dry lips.
“What are you doing?” Gibson asked.
“Help,” Chance rasped. “Water. Food. Please.”
Then he collapsed, every last ounce of his energy spent. The world spun around him, and everything went black.