Hans was awoken by noise—people talking, utensils clinging, pots simmering, children laughing with firecrackers in their hands. It was the day of the ceremony. It was the day of the sacrifice.
He peeked over the edge of the roof. He understood why there was so much noise. The Crossroads was even busier than it had been the day before. Hans was astounded by how many people were moving around, congesting the poor town with suffocating traffic.
The area around the cauldron, which had its contents renewed after the vortex’s rampage, was especially busy. Many people in suits were bustling about, peeking out of the colorful crowd, scouting for any disruptions to this sacred day.
For a moment, Hans felt safe. He was only peeking over the edge. People were so distracted by what was going on below that he doubted anyone would pay attention to him.
“Is it interesting?” Jasmine asked, still lying in the center of the roof. She had been awake when he fell asleep, and she was awake when he awakened. He was unsure if she had gotten any rest at all in the past day. She seemed to be shaken heavily by her kidnapping.
“Certainly,” Hans responded.
“I’m glad.”
Hans thought about what Jasmine had told him. She, too, was suffering because she had forcefully been brought back to a land she thought she had long put behind her. He respected her for keeping up her optimistic demeanor. At the very least, she didn’t let other people know how much it affected her.
But Hans saw now that she, too, was a person with emotions. She was probably suffering the same crippling feelings he had felt earlier.
He didn’t know if he would ever fully learn to trust himself again. But, for the sake of Jasmine, he needed to do something more with his life than building an army of beautiful shrubs. Maybe not in Charthosk. But certainly on Earth.
Hans’ attention was caught by a particular group of suited gentlemen. Three in count, he noted. It was an Earth Guilder, a Sky Crusader, and a Chaos Harbinger. The Guilder was extremely well built, the Sky Crusader had massive wings trailing behind him—even bigger than the ones Felix had—and the Harbinger had a very long, slim tail and large horns.
Hans almost didn’t recognize Percival, Lucan, and Emrys. They each possessed the qualities of the most respected members of their respective factions.
But a look at the men’s faces confirmed that it was them. Hans tried to explain the situation to himself. They had probably used a disguising spell when they traveled to Earth. When he first fought them, it hadn’t completely worn off. Now, they were conscious again, seeking revenge. He understood why they were the secret agents of Charthosk—they were terrifying in the canvas of mediocrity that made up the people at the Crossroads.
A realization hit Hans. He had worked as a secret agent to Charthosk under his grandfather in the MCIA. Percival, Lucan, and Emrys now worked under the guardian, who Hans was confident was his grandfather, as the secret agents to Earth.
Hans had been very loyal. And from their conversation the day before, these men seemed to be loyal, too. Hans’ grandfather was good at getting people’s trust. A terrible man with that level of influence scared Hans. “Why was I so loyal?” he wondered.
The men walked towards Felix, who stood on the platform behind the cauldron. They engaged him in a deep conversation, all of them probably discussing Hans and the safety of the ceremony. Hans remembered the face of fear that had appeared on both Percival and Felix’s faces when they saw his eyes flare green.
Suddenly, all four men started looking around. Hans felt an impulse to move back. As he started to crawl backwards, Felix made eye contact with Hans.
The last thing Hans saw before he crept back far enough was a creepy grin plastered on Felix’s face—the same one he had when his vortex started dragging Hans and Jasmine into it, ready to tear them apart. It was over for Hans.
Hans stayed motionless for a second. He hoped that what he had seen was just an illusion. A hallucination. A dream. An imagined scene. Anything other than reality. He did not want to cast any spell. He did not want to tell Jasmine and worry her. He was as still as a statue.
Then, he heard the flap of two sets of wings.
“Jasmine!” Hans yelled. She shot up into a sitting position. But it was too late. Percival and Felix flew up into the air, almost immediately coming into Hans’ view. In unison, they cast, “Shamol neto.”
Hans felt an enormous pressure drop on him. He couldn’t see the net his captors had cast. The wind that wrapped around him was invisible but scarily dense. It sealed his mouth and shackled him tighter and tighter until he was trapped.
The net of wind started pulling Hans into the air. As Percival and Felix descended from their flight, the wind dragged him over the cauldron. He was powerless. He was going to be sacrificed. He was going to be the entrée before the main course.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve got him,” Felix proudly announced as he landed on the platform. He closed his wings and turned around, facing the crowd with a smile. “We present to you the Terror of the Forest. Do not worry. We have constrained him. He has no chance of escaping.” He paused, taking a moment to build suspense. Every silent millisecond felt like a mockery to Hans.
Felix continued, “You will now see an end to the legacy the Terror had left in Charthosk. He will die for his sins.” A cheer erupted from the crowd. To Hans, it felt like a shot to the heart.
“Stop.” The words rang out from the top of the Mammoth Oak. They were confident and booming, powerful and commanding. The voice was his grandfather’s. Hans and Jasmine had been correct.
The crowd heeded the guardian’s wish. Everyone who had heard his words stopped talking. Even Felix partook in the silence.
Hans was still suspended in the air, wondering if his grandfather would save him like he had saved Jasmine. He was sure Jasmine was still on the rooftop, panicking about his sudden departure. What could she do?
A lonely branch extended from the Mammoth Oak. It wasn’t anything like the web of branches that had saved Jasmine. It was thick and sharp to a point. Hans was concerned. He didn’t feel like he was being saved.
Hans’ thoughts were correct. The branch shot right at his chest. He had a second to think. In that second, terror seeped through his mind. Through his fingers. Through his toes. He was going to meet a brutal end.
The second passed. Pain flooded Hans’ body. His mouth filled with the taste of blood. He could no longer think. He could no longer breathe. A thick branch was stuck cleanly through his chest. Another second passed. Pain took up every bit of Hans’ vessel of existence.
The crowd did not cheer. There was stunned silence. They had expected a sacrifice, not a murder. The branch started pulling into the tree, right into the guardian’s den. It didn’t matter anymore—Hans had blacked out.