Innterlott Novella

A few short chapters on a book I'm writing

// Whenever it says (") it means the long dash (--)

Prolouge

Blustering Brutality

ǫᴜɪʟ"ᴀ sʜᴏʀᴛ-fᴜʀʀᴇᴅ, fᴀᴛ Tytho with small ears, button-like eyes, and baggy clothing"awoke to the sound of hateful yelling. From the interior of his dumpster, dawn light crept weakly to meet Quil’s eyes, shining faintly over the empty cans, bolts, useless items, and rotting foods of sorts. The dumpster lay along the side of his father’s mansion, covered in big, green trash bags.

His fur pricked in fear, as it did everyday living among the unruly demons referred to as his family. Prying open the sticky coverage with a struggling effort, he crawled out of the dumpster, some trash clinging to his ragged pelt. Quil peered into a nearby dusty and small window. There, his father, Clau, was instructing his hot-headed older brother"Hank"on his fighting techniques.

Clau was an ambitious, cruel, tall, scraggly yet strong, crooked figure. His beak was a jagged shape and his neck was bare flesh. He wore a wine-colored robe. Hank was a strong-built, headstrong bully. He, also, had a crooked beak. They both were shouting at each other, neither allowing the other to have the last word. Hank had his hands in a tight fist, standing in a defensive pose. Clau sat on his large thrown, glaring down at Hank. From the windowsill, small pudgy Quil couldn’t make out what they were saying, he didn’t really want to anyways. Just then, Clau stuck out a long, twisted claw to point at the window in which Quil resided behind. Panicking, Quil ducked, cowering under the piles of trash and slunk stealthily back into the dumpster.

Thunderous footsteps approached and light filled the dumpster as is was swung open.

Oh, please no! Quil thought, his big paws covering his head in an attempt to protect himself. Hank reached down a massive hand and bore his claws into Quil’s neck fur. Quil rubbed his eyes in a wail as Hank carried Quil with ease to the massive mansion.

“Found him!” Hank bellowed triumphantly, raising Quil’s weak body higher in the air. Quil swallowed hard as he felt himself being brought swiftly backwards.

Swoosh!

Thud!

Pain roared down his back as he was thrown in an irregular position, his body weight pressing down roughly on his spine. Clau watched, interest shining in his beady, black eyes.

Quil was sick of this brutally unnecessary routine. Each day, Clau would teach Hank new fighting techniques. Quil was often abused as the fighting dummy. Though, every once-in-awhile, he watched from the windowsill and copied the techniques in his head, showing them to Trigger during their time together in the forest.

Quil struggled to his feet, facing the opposite direction of Hank. He reached a hand feebly behind him to tentatively feel his spine, which was stiff and felt somewhat bent. As Quil did so, Hank darted forward, rearing his leg up only to bring his foot down hard against Quil’s face. Ears ringing as pain shot through him, he could just barely hear the choking laughter emitting from his father, Clau.

Rage pulsed in his throat, but Quil knew if he did anything he would suffer more severe consequences. The unfair match continued until Clau pointed out that he was growing bored of it, and they both left Quil and the bloody beating behind. Bruised and scratched everywhere, Quil dragged himself to the doorway with a single, bloodstained hand, fighting for consciousness with every shaken breath he took.

He felt as if his guts had been blasted out of his body.

* * *

Now, Quil sat alone in the disease-packed trash, sobbing uncontrollably; Face hidden behind his fat fingers. He longed for the time of  day that he would be out of this mange-ridden dump, and freed from the brutal fatality surrounding him: School. The bullies at school were much nicer than Hank, most just stole from him and picked on him, calling him names, which Quil didn’t mind. As a bonus, Quil had a friend, Trigger, who spent most of the day with him. Quil gazed at the lid, begging for somebody to open it that wasn’t his thoughtless ‘family’.

Trigger should be here soon, school doesn’t start too long from now... Thought Quil, who was now fidgeting with his lion-like tail, sniffing his tears away. As if answering his troubled thoughts, somebody opened the lid to the trash. With a massive sigh of relief, Quil saw Trigger standing there, not the dark, muscular figure of his brother. Just nice, scrawny Trigger.

The two boys made their way to school together, grateful for having somebody like Trigger in his life. For the first time in weeks, Quil smiled. An honest, true smile.

Chapter One

Delusional Dispute

ɪɴᴋʏ, ᴅᴇᴇᴘ ʙʟᴜᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴄʀᴇᴘᴛ into the small, circular window of Trigger’s bedroom, carefully lining all objects with a blue thread. Items too far from the window were smothered in the ebony abyss. A handcrafted wooden horse stood in the corner of the room, smaller woodcarvings surrounding it. Smooth, stone shelves lined one side, reaching the ceiling. Books upon books filled them; some were labeled, others just plain; A few were leaning towards others, as if looking for support.

Blinking hazily, Trigger awoke from his slumber as an unusually bright light reached his eyes. Yawning, he curiously peered into the window, searching for its source.

Full moons... he thought as he located the two white orbs, one bigger than the other.

Full moons! Trigger rethought.

I’d almost forgotten that Quil and I had planned to talk by the river! It was the end of the month and Summer was ever-so-slowly drawing near. The two friends annually met by the river. Quietly, Trigger flipped his bedsheets off and rose to his feet. His eyes screamed for more sleep, but he shrugged it off as he cautiously stepped forward. The floor boards were notorious for creaking.

Trigger lived with his father, Val, who’s bedroom lay directly beneath Trigger’s, and his younger brother, Coen.

I don’t want to wake my brother or my father, he paused, narrowing his eyes, he added,

if that’s even what Val is... Testing the boards before he took a step, he made his way to the door, avoiding small objects that could trip him. Probably face to face with the door, he pushed his paw forward. Trigger underestimated the distance from him to the door handle, and felt himself waving his paw blindly at an object that was feet away. Hot-headed with frustration and embarrassment, he dramatically took a few steps forward.

A few steps too much that is.

Oh… Ouch! Trigger thought silently when the pain roared up his leg from where he had stubbed his toe. Luckily it hadn’t disturbed the silence. After trial and error, Trigger finally found the door and opened it slowly, still cautious of making any noise. He limped down the staircase, grateful for the support the railing offered. The staircase had a thin, red carpet draped down it, making it easier for his long feet to slip silently across it. Triumphantly, he realized that he had made it downstairs successfully.

Except for my foot, Trigger reminded himself as it throbbed yet again.

He led himself to the neatly-crafted kitchen. Cobbled stone and marble slabs reflected the moonlight but most of the other utensils and objects had vanished. Trigger knew his way around the kitchen and skillfully got to the arched doorway.

He recalled that it would be somewhat cold outside, so Trigger wore a brown, leather vest and a white undershirt, as well as pale breeches. He’d worn this to bed in order for his quick and easy exit.

Opening the great spruce door, he suppressed a shudder as the chilled wind met his bare paws. Closing the door without much attention, he gazed up at the stars for a minute or two, a familiar joy sweeping through him.

I know this forest like the back of my paws, he thought, so what’s taking me so long?

He raced away from the house; into the woods, enjoying the sound of wind roaring in his ears. The forest was heavily dense with life of all sorts. He entered the tranquility, relishing the beauty.

Poppies and boneset flowers seemed to cover the grass. Evergreen bushes here, a tunnel there, arched with large, thick trees. Mushrooms made their way along the bark and bunched in small clumps. It felt a significant amount more darker here.

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else right now,” Trigger thought aloud in a hushed whisper. Nothing besides the leaves and grass stirred. He gave the forest a challenging half-grin before launching himself gleefully further into the bracken. His heart pounded in synch with each footstep. Dirt and small grass was flung backwards as his feet made contact with the ground. He pelted forwards, weaving through the trees, leaping over bushes and racing up hills.

Here… Now here… Hill approaching… Trigger thought as the forest blurred around him. He loved the feeling of cold grass underfoot and damp dirt smearing on his pads. His toe had now recovered, or if it hadn’t Trigger didn’t notice. He was overjoyed by the thrilling run.

Slightly disappointed, he knew the forest would soon give way to the river. Pushing hard on his heels he slowed to a hault as he neared his destination. Drinking in all the details, Trigger looked around for Quil, though he couldn’t see anything. His heartbeat quickened as he spotted the fluffy delinquent sitting atop an uprooted tree, overlooking the river. The large tree’s roots and some dirt had been churned up from the landscape. Quil’s thin tail was steadily drooping over the side.

For somebody without a keen eye, Quil may have just been a still object; Trigger recognized his friend’s shape at once. The tree was safely dangling off the precipice, but if somebody fell off it would be too hard to get back on land, for the raging waters were sure to drag you under.

“Hey, Quil!” Trigger called out between exhausted breaths, aware of the flock of birds that flew away, disturbed by the shout. Quil turned, wide-eyed in shock, his neck fur ruffled; Paws braced in tight fists. Though, his eyes softened as he recognized Trigger. He hauled himself slightly to the river, patting the log beside him. Trigger bounded over to him, then sat in the spot Quil indicated.

Quil was talking about something, but Trigger had his ears pricked towards the woodland, in case anything may be lurking around.

I don’t want it to be like last Spring, when that hungry"

“So… What’s new with you?” Quil’s loud question interrupted his thoughts.

“Nothing m-much, it’s been kind of a long w-week though,” he fumbled through his sentence hesitantly, wondering if he missed anything Quil said.

“Uhh… What’s new with you?” Trigger asked, looking over at Quil. He was a stubby, fat boy. Quil wore a paperboy hat, a large brown shirt, and baggy jeans. He was filthy and reeked of trash and pine. His small eyes were gazing at the roaring water, which lapped hastily along the riverside. Quil was fiddling with his fat paws, unwilling to answer the question.

“What’s new with Clau?” Trigger pressed after a moment of silence.

“My father?” He prompted. Trigger’s beak opened to ask more, but his voice trailed off as Quil stared at him, eyes blazed with hatred.

“‘New with Clau?’” Quil asked himself in a mockery tone, still hot with hatred. He didn’t give Trigger have any time to reply.

“Oh yes, the murderous ruffian you claim as your father,” his voice dripped with scorn. Trigger’s eyes were wide as his friend spat hateful remarks at his face.

“It was just a ques"” Trigger began sorrowfully, though his apology was cut off by Quil.

“‘Hmm I’m not sure what’s new with Clau. Perhaps he’s murdered someone else, maybe he’s torturing Quil, maybe stealing, or, maybe, he’s having a great day and donating money, giving roses to all he sees!’” Quil snarled in a dismissive tone, glaring past Trigger as if he wasn’t talking to anyone. Trigger wanted to cuff Quil around the ears; he could feel the anger rising in his throat. Trigger let out a deep growl, lashing his tiny deer-like tail to and fro from where it dangled in an attempt to convey feelings without words.

Trigger’s face felt like it was about to set fire. Bushing his eyebrows and creasing his face, Trigger felt himself shaking with hatred.

What do you even know about Clau? He’s not even your father! Before Trigger realized what he was doing, he found himself simultaneously saying his thoughts, “what do you even know about Clau? He’s not even your father! You"” Trigger continuation was cut off by Quil.

“According to you, I know nothing! I guess that I didn’t grow up under his claws or anything!” Quil retorted sharply, eyes meeting Trigger’s. Trigger couldn’t believe this peaceful night could be destroyed by Quil.

Without hesitation, Trigger snorted, then his eyes gleamed with daunting trouble, “oh cry me a river.”

Trigger brushed back his ruffled fur cooly as he realized that Quil was becoming infuriated by Trigger’s witty remarks, so Trigger added, “you hardly know him, you’ve been thinking about your pitiful self so much that you cannot fulfil your ‘father’s’ wishes!” Trigger boomed, lifting one foot so it wasn’t dangling off the cliffside.

“‘My ‘father’s’ wishes?” Quil’s voice quivered, eyes pools of hurt. “All my father wishes is death upon me!”

His face turned a bright red and his beady eyes flashed with emotion, as if he couldn’t contain himself. He could no longer meet Trigger’s gaze, so blinking rapidly, he studied his fat fingers attentively. “Would that be so bad?” Trigger hissed, flinching at his own words; Regretting them as soon as they were said. Heated heartbeats passed before either of the friends said anything. Trigger’s heart screamed to apologize to Quil, but he was too proud to tell him anything. Quil’s eyes streamed with hateful tears as he glared menacingly at Trigger, body rattling due to his sobbing.

Overhead, dark clouds covered the moons, the thick density blocked almost all of the light. Crisp and sharp rain began, drizzling from them. Trigger felt himself beginning to panic as all light was consumed by the infuriated clouds.

“He’s manipulating you!” Quil warned in a distant voice, ignoring the soon-to-be-drenched hat that was beginning to droop over his eyes. “Inside your head.”

Fighting for words to describe his feelings, he added, “you’re too naïve and… And too young to realize that you are giving way to... Your own demise by opening up to that cruel monstrosity!”

Quil’s words seemed to strike Trigger, and Trigger found it hard to believe when his friend continued.

“Soon you’ll find yourself slaughtered by the sheer mistake you made! Everything you love will die; the entirety of the planet will be in flames; Clau will reign; Blood will drip down your claws; Everyone will sacrifice themselves for you!” As if exhausted by all the talking, the blaze seemed to die in his eyes. “Trigger, you stupid, stupid Tytho.”

Tired by all of Quil’s ridiculous adumbrating, Trigger lashed out unsheathed claws and swiftly caught Quil on his cheek. The tips of his sharp, rough claws met Quil’s hot flesh, and feathers as well as small tufts of fur stuck to the blood in which was now dripping from his fingertips. Quil trembled, his face pale as his breath heaved. His hand roused from where he placed it down to touch the wound. He flinched as his cold hands touched the exposed flesh. Quil’s eyes were hollow.

“Quil"Uhh… I’m… Well"Y-you know I didn’t mean… Any of that at all,” Trigger searched for words, horrified by himself. Maybe Quil was right"maybe Clau really was evil and their meets were ruining him. After all, blood was dripping down his claws. What Quil said echoed in Trigger’s now-crazed mind. He wondered if any of it at all was a fib. Quil wasn’t listening.

“L-listen to me!” He pleaded, but Quil was still not listening, his gaze seemed to look past him.

Rain thundered and the tree they sat upon became darkened and slippery with rain.

“What the devil…?” Came Quil’s chilling whisper. Fur rising along his spine, Trigger peered around cautiously, but he couldn’t see anything. He was about to turn around to glare at Quil when lightning flashed in the distance, outlining a creature which sat among the shadows.

THRUMM!

The thunder boomed, shortly after lightning flashed.

To his horror the two boys weren’t alone.

Chapter Two

Tousled Tarantula

ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏʏs ʙᴏᴛʜ sᴄʀᴀᴍʙʟᴇᴅ ʙᴀᴄᴋᴡᴀʀᴅs, frantically attempting to get as far away from the creature as they could. Their argument was now forgotten. Standing before them was an eight-feet-tall, longlegged, massive spider. It had crept from the shadows from someplace. It wasn’t looking at them. Instead, it was focused on the treeline. Trigger wasn’t even aware of such a thing existing, especially in his forest.

What in thunder is that?

What are we going to do? He sent his silent pleas to Quil. As if receiving the questions, Quil shook his head, bewildered.

The gigantic spider had knotted hair, each leg delicately bound with a thick coat of fur.

It has at least 30 eyes, Trigger thought, clearly not willing to stay and count.

“We have to do something!” Trigger screamed.“Fool!” Quil yelped. “Now it sees us!”

Quil shuddered as the beast stared at them, eyes gleaming with and iridescent blue among the shadows. Trigger could barely see a thin ooze leaking from its irregular shaped fangs. At once, both boys recognized the familiar reek of hot, sticky blood.

This thing is either wounded or clearly looking to inflict wounds!

For a few heartbeats nobody stirred. Then, Trigger, "not really thinking"hauled a heavy rock out of a crevice in the cliffside. With all his might, Trigger brought back his hand, clenched tightly with the rock, and flung it forward blindly.

With little satisfaction, Trigger heard a thud as it hit the spider someplace, but all smiles faded as it reappeared from the shadows, screaming with a hellish moan. It lunged at them, fangs spread wide, large enough to crack his skull in one snap.

“Now what?” Trigger wailed.

This is surely the end of us.

“Just give it a minute!” Quil hollered as the spider peered thoughtlessly through the upturned roots of the tree. “I’m certain a miracle will happen!” Quil yelled over the pouring rain and rushing water. Silently, Trigger didn’t agree with him. As if settling the partially-silent disagreement, the spider thrust into the tree.

CRACK!

The tree’s sound split the air. He found Quil scrambling frantically towards the roots of the tree, his hands slipping on the wet bark, groping for something"anything"to grab onto. Heart lurching, mind racing, Trigger’s body seemed to be falling before him and the next thing he knew, they were in the raging waters of the river. Gasping for breath, his beak barely reached the top of the rapids, leading him to inhale a large amount of water. The current dragged him down and he felt weak and heavy as a stone, unable to swim. Trigger wasn’t sure which side was up and which side was down, nor did he know where Quil was, if he was even alive that is.

I’m going to die! He realized, but managed to breathe in some air, just a heartbeat before being swept, yet again, down under the water. The river rushed over him; pulling, pulling his legs… Down, down, down he was thrust, the water filling all his senses. Hearing nothing but raging rapids; Feeling nothing but the cold water; seeing nothing past the black abyss. Bubbles rolled out of his mouth. A quick idea popped into his head. He struggled to swim to the bottom of the rushing river, but managed to reach the riverbed and thrust himself upward.

At once, he sent himself to the top of the waves, gulping in as much air as he could. Trigger managed to stay afloat for a few moments before going under. At the last moment, he caught a glimpse of Quil, who was knocked unconscious against the side of a rock jutting from the river. Trigger fought the current as he attempted to swim his direction. He plunged into the black water in search of his friend. A dead fish was carried above him.

That could be me soon enough if I don’t hurry! He shuddered, but continued on his route to save his friend. Trigger grew weary and tired of swimming against the current. He was about to let his arms give way until the current pushed his unconscious friend around the rock and he was dragged down the river, headfirst.

Suppressing a sigh of relief, Trigger saw that through the roaring waters came his friend. He knew there was a small falls ahead, so Trigger had to move his friend to the riverside as soon as possible. Trigger lunged over the water, catching Quil before he passed him. He noticed the bloody bruise on his forehead and the slash across his cheek. He struggled across but made his way to the rocky shore. Breath heaving, he carried his heavy friend out of the water.

Is he dead? Came Trigger’s troubled thought. Panic rising in his throat, he pressed his ear to his friend’s chest. His heart is still beating… He thought, relieved.

Dragging his friend’s wet body farther away from the river, he noticed the spider was probably still over by the cliffside, wondering where his soon-to-be prey went. Trigger dragged his friend over to the shelter of an arching cave mouth. The lip of the cave was heavily lined with stalactites, which dripped steadily with crisp water.

I should get some help… Trigger thought as he was unsure what to do.

Quil’s body stirred, and Trigger pricked his ears with interest. He could just faintly see his friend sprawled in a tangled shape beside him. Sitting up, Quil began coughing up water. Trigger watched as he collapsed in exhaustion. The boys made eye contact, then Trigger turned his head sheepishly.

Quil’s gaze bore into the side of Trigger’s face.

It was silent besides the faint rushing of water and the dripping from the stalactites. All Trigger could hear was the rattle of Quil’s uneven, short breathing. Both boys’ clothes were plastered onto them.

Quil was still furious at Trigger.

Eyelids heavy, Quil leaned back so his head was resting against the cave wall.

Trigger wished that he was back in the safe, warm enclosure of his woodland, sod roof cabin, but even Trigger knew that there was no way they could scale the rocky cliffside. He closed his eyes, grateful for the warmth his friend emitted. Leaning closer, the boys shivered among the darkness of the newfound cave. Despite the situation and his tiredness, his heart begged him to go explore, but he soon slipped into sleep.

Quil was watching the water slowly accumulate on the stalactites, then dripping down, sending a quiet drip noise echoing throughout the tunnels.

* * *

The two, sleeping boys lay against the cave wall.

Trigger was roused by the sunlight glaring at him. They had spent the rest of their night in the caves. Sitting up, Trigger was confused about where he was, but remembered with a groan what had happened. His body ached from the rocky terrain he’d slept on, and his arms were weak from resisting the current. Thinking of the current, he squirmed away from Quil and peered cautiously at the river waters. It was now steadily easing its way around rocks, no longer splashing over the top. The levels had drastically risen from the previous night’s event. The edge of the water was now inside of the cave’s mouth. He prodded Quil’s shoulder. As Quil awoke sluggishly, Trigger pointed a finger towards the river.

“Look.”

“Wow... It has really widened since last night...” Quil said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Their quarrel was now forgotten; All wounds healed. Except for Quil’s physical ones, that is.

“What are we going to do now?” Trigger asked Quil.

“I’m... I’m not sure... I don’t think we can climb up the cliffside and I’m not too sure the spider is fully gone,” Quil paused, voice quivering, he added, “and I’m not really up for another river ride,” Quil’s eyes gleamed with mischief, “water we going to do?” Quil’s voice bubbled with a choked back giggle at his own pun.

Trigger snorted gleefully, stifling laughter, he was glad that his friend wasn’t acting odd anymore.

But I still wish we could get somewhere without joking about it. The water level is high, and there’s no way we can get out of this cave. Trigger thought, but said nothing.

It had been a several minutes since they woke, and both boys were giving suggestions, but neither could agree with the other’s idea, pointing out the flaws then sitting in silence, waiting for the next idea. The cave was now sparkling with sunlight reflecting off the dank walls. A musty, earthy, crisp stench clung to them. They sat atop a flat boulder, watching the cool water lap at the stalagmites.

Peering boredly around, Quil noticed a shiny object further down the cave.

“Look at that,” Quil said, angling his whiskers fervently at the small source. Without hesitating to hear what Trigger thought about it, he leaped off the rocks and floundered over to it. Trigger watched, leaned curiously forward, but had no intention of following.

Instead of bringing it back to show Trigger, he sat right down beside it, leaving Trigger’s curiosity taking over.

“Hey I want to see!” Trigger said, bounding over to where Quil sat. Pelt pricking with anticipation, he gazed over, but Quil’s hand was in the way. His face was flushed with an emotion Trigger couldn’t detect.

“Well?” Trigger prompted. “What is it?”

He felt himself growing impatient, but Quil didn’t stir. Quil’s mouth was gaped in an inaudible, utter confusion.

“Just tell me!” Trigger thrust himself forward, attempting to see Quil’s viewpoint. But as he did so, Quil clamped his paws together and flinched away from Trigger. Quil muttered something.

“What?” Trigger asked. “Just show me!” He begged, swiping for the item.

Quil flashed him a warning glance. “It’s nothing...” His voice trailed off as he opened his paws slightly to look once again.

“Ha!” Trigger said when he managed to slip the rusted golden chain out from between Quil’s fingers. Holding it up by its chain, Trigger watched the object gleam as it spun in a semi-circle. At once, he recognized the circular shape of a pocket watch. Mouth twisting with confusion and disappointment, Trigger wondered why Quil looked so angry.

“It’s just an old, broken, rusty pocket watch,” he remarked bluntly. Quil’s eyes pulsated with anger. “Give me that! It’s mine!” Quil said, swiping a paw where the pocketwatch hung a second before.

“I’m just looking at it!” Said Trigger, pushing Quil away. He pressed a small button. The watch’s clock face opened to reveal a small picture enclosed within. Inside was a black and white, faded and worn picture which had dirt on it and scarcely hung on. Two Tythos were on it.

“Is that...” Trigger gasped.

“Is that you and your mother?” He sounded, astonished. He didn’t even think about Quil’s mother until this moment. It was an old photograph. The women on the left looked nearly identical to Quil, and she was holding a small, bundle of feathers.

And that’s Quil... Trigger thought. Quil snatched it out of Trigger’s hands, and Trigger made no movement to stop him. Understanding rushed down his back. This is the only thing he has of his real family.

A few, cold seconds passed before a voice sounded from the cave entrance.

“Hello? Is anybody there?” It said. Both boys looked up from where they sat, not giving much of a reaction. A shadow cast across the cave floor  to where they sat. Trigger could make out the dark outline of his friend, Gus. He was carrying a round object. Noticing the two boys, he held the object out in front of him, then asked,

“’This your’s?”

Chapter Three

Seafaring Savior

ɢᴜs ᴡᴀs ᴀ ᴛᴀʟʟ, ʟᴇᴀɴ, strong Tytho. He was a snowy white color and his fur brushed over his small beak. He had eyes of two differing colors, and a large, round tail. One arm was a big, hand-shaped wing, the other a small paw. He was wearing a sailor's hat and victorian clothing as well as jeans.

Trigger let out a huge sigh of relief, but Quil’s eyes were narrowed with uncertainty. Gus leaned forward, squinting his one good eye.

“Who’s there?”

“Hi, Gus!” Trigger called joyfully, stepping out of the shadows to reveal his messy shape. Gus bounded over to him.

“What on earth are you doing in this cave?” He demanded, looking Trigger up and down, brushing off dirt, then turned his head to look at Quil. Trigger could see that Quil’s tail was lashing with hostility.

He’s our ticket out of here, so please don’t ruin this for yourself! Trigger silently pleaded Quil, who was glaring at Gus, who was now hanging his head.

“We were sitting atop the fallen tree when this massive"” Quil started, but was cut off.

“When our tree gave way and we plunged into the rushing water,” Trigger interrupted Quil. He didn’t want Gus to think that he still told fables.

“It was pouring outside and we took shelter in here. Then when we woke the levels were too high to wade out so...” He paused, then questioned Gus,

“how did you get here?”

“What is that?”

“How’d you know we’re here?” The questions spilled out of his mouth. Gus dipped his head in acknowledgement for his hasty questions, stifling laughter.

“This hat floated down the riverside, right into my lake. Well, when I saw this,” he raised his large, squarish wing, revealing a big, paperboy hat.

Quil’s hat!

“I remembered how much you talk about your friend, and you mentioned his paperboy hat, which I presume belongs to this fella, eh? I’ve also seen him ‘round school once in awhile.” Gus laughed. Trigger blushed with embarrassment,

I don’t talk about Quil that much...

“So I took my riverboat,” he angled his ears to the shape lying outside of the cave.

“And sailed over here, to where I heard some yelling. Then I saw some shapes in the corner and decided to welcome myself,” he unequipped his sailor hat. Tipping it, he added bluntly,

“You’re welcome.”

“Oh"Er, thanks!” Trigger realized he hadn’t thanked Gus for his arrival.

“Well I suppose we’d better get going,” said Gus. The two boys nodded frantically, tired of the boring cave system.

Gus had returned the hat to its owner"Quil"who was still clutching the golden pocket watch firmly in his left hand. Gus looked at it, but said nothing with an understanding nod when Quil growled at him. They set off, an easy, still ride across the deep water. Trigger relished the ride but noticed Quil was leaning over the side of the small boat, hand over mouth and his face pale.

I’m sure he doesn’t really lake the water. Trigger laughed quietly at his own joke. Gus gave him a weird look at his hushed laughter, saying nothing.

It had been a few minutes from when they departed the cave, so the approaching cliffside was now a sloping hill. Waving goodbye to Gus, they made their way up the hill and onto the moorside.

“I bet Clau didn't even notice I was gone,” Quil said bitterly, gaze daring Trigger to argue. But Trigger simply said,

“I’ll probably be dead meat when Val finds out.”

They tread up the slope and wove around the mass of trees. Trigger had to escort the clumsy Quil more than once out of a burrow or hole. Eventually they arrived at Triggers house. Trigger waved Quil a goodbye and the two friends went their differing ways.

It’s midday, Trigger pointed out to himself as he anxiously padded to the sod house. He swallowed hard as he noticed Val pacing around the front door, arms crossed, and scorn slapped across his face, muttering to himself. His eyes were dark, as if he was watching helplessly while being murdered.

I don’t want to go home, he realized as he was way too reluctant to bring himself out of the shadows. Val was fairly short. He was a pale, tan color and his beak was directly connected to his face, so it looked more like pincers than a mouth. Summoning all of his courage, he strode out into the clearing, and to his surprise, Val ran up to him, hugging the startled Trigger tightly.

“W-what"” he started, hands quivering as Val rested his head against Trigger’s shoulder. Between a held-back sob, Val said,

“I thought you went back to Clau...” Understanding rushed through Trigger from the tip of his ears to the end of his tail.

He was worried I’d left him. For good. Guilt pricked his fur along his spine. Trigger hugged Val back.

Even if he may not be my birth father, he is still my father in some ways.

* * *

“Tell me once more about your adventure! Pleeeease!” Coen begged at the foot of Trigger’s bed.

“But I’ve already told you a bazillion times!” Trigger groaned, but was inwardly happy that he had a new tale to tell to his younger brother, Coen.

Coen was a very young, plump Arod. He had big, bright eyes, large, drooping ears, and a rat tail. He didn’t have a beak, instead, he had a tiny mouse nose. He was an Archepodo, not a Tytho like the majority. But Coen wasn’t exposed to racism, he didn’t understand why he was treated differently, nor did he take much notice. Trigger was very protective over his younger brother, even if they may not even be linked by blood.

“Okay, okay I’ll tell you once more,” Trigger sighed, pushing his fingers through his hair.

“But no more, okay?” Coen nodded, vigorously wagging his rat-tail in excitement.

“So first,” Trigger said, trying to make the terrifying horrors of the event seem like a cool adventure to impress Coen.

“I snuck out in the middle of the night, then I ran super fast, like, way faster than the wind!”

“I climbed up the highest cliff, and then I sat on the edge of the fallen tree,”

Coen stared wide-eyed at Trigger

“The edge?” He echoed.

“The very edge!” Trigger puffed out his chest. Coen had only gotten close enough to see the roots. Not everything Trigger said was entirely true, but it didn’t matter. A story is a story.

“It started to pour and lightning struck just beside me!

“Then,” Trigger started, standing on the top of his bead, reaching his arm as high as he could.

“Then all of a sudden, a massive, hairy spider, at least this tall and as wide as the room leaped out at me!” Coen jumped to the side just in time as Trigger sprung from the bed, claws extended at where Coen sat a heartbeat before. Coen giggled with amusement.

“And then the spider bowled into the roots!”

“The tree knocked over and I plunged into the river!” Trigger realized with a jolt that now Coen would never sit on the edge of the tree when he was older. He also didn’t want to explain the true horrors and thoughts of death during the time.

“A massive fish tried to kill me, but I outswam it,” Trigger added.

Though, it was only a dead fish.

“I nearly drowned, but I swam into this HUGE cave!” Trigger crossed his arms proudly. Coen clapped as Trigger bowed.

“Bravo!” Val said, who was now standing in the doorway, eyes sparked with amusement, as he knew that is only a fraction of the truth.

Val is a good father, Trigger thought with guilt, but I’d like to get to know my real father as well...

After the praising was over, Val said, “it’s nearly noon, you kids should get ready for school.” They both nodded as Val closed the door, then headed downstairs to his room. Both boys listened as he did so.

“I’m bored,” Coen complained now that the storytelling was over.

Me too. Trigger agreed silently.

“I have an idea! Let’s go to the tree house and draw,” Trigger didn’t want a conversation in which both kids continuously moaned about how bored they were. Coen didn’t look so convinced and followed reluctantly, but still glad to be doing something.

The treehouse was highly decorated with crafts of all sorts. It was fairly large, the main section was a big square and it led to a smaller room up a short ladder. A big, continuous window was cut out on one side. Val had built the treehouse for Trigger when he was young, but it had been revamped by the young crafter to be more of an irregular shape.

Coen scribbled on some paper with brightly colored chalk on the floor while Trigger sat by a small desk, taking his time drawing with a charcoal-edged stick. Both boys were drawing the creature Trigger saw in the forest. He turned to look out the window, daring the beast to emerge from the mist, but nothing stirred, so he continued to sketch. A minute or two passed.

Leaping to his feet, Coen bounced around holding his picture high above his head.

“Wanna see my amazing drawing?” Coen said boastfully, puffing out his chest.

“Oh, sure,” Trigger said distractedly, and not turning around he reached out a hand to grab the paper. Coen hummed proudly.

Looking at the array of messy scribbles, he was genuinely stunned to find that his brother had made such a thing. Trigger was five years older than him, and yet the mess was spectacular, far better than what Trigger drew. Jealousy pulsed through him, a feeling he couldn’t shrug off. Even if it was messy, the anatomy shared an uncanny resemblance to that of the real thing. And by uncanny, it was exact. Eyes widened in bewildered amazement, he couldn’t stop staring at it. It was messy, yes, and it had many saturated in vibrant colors, yes, but spot on.

“You are absolutely... Amazing!” Trigger searched for how to put his emotion into words. He dropped his wooden pencil. Suddenly, Trigger paused, looking closer at the drawing. “How do you know what it looks like?”

Coen just studied his feet.

He’s hiding something!

“How  do  you  know  what  it  looks  like?” Trigger prompted, making each word pronounced so he was certain Coen heard him. Coen gazed up at Trigger with wide, star-like eyes, looking right through him.

“I see it in my dreams...”

Chapter Four

Cerulean Crush

fᴏᴜʀ ᴡᴇᴇᴋs ʜᴀᴅ ᴘᴀssᴇᴅ sɪɴᴄᴇ Coen explained to Trigger about having odd dreams, predicting the future in a way. Four weeks had passed since Quil’s argument with Trigger. Four weeks had passed since the spider had shown itself. Four weeks had passed since the day Quil decided that he didn’t want to go to school. Now, Trigger had coaxed Quil out of his dumpster and influenced him to come back, he agreed somberly.

Today was Quil’s first day of school in weeks, and he was surprised to find himself wanting to go.

Maybe I can see Trigger’s new friend he’s been talking about so much... Quil thought, imagining what she’d look like. He wasn’t really exposed to anyone besides other boys, seeing the girl may make him extremely uncomfortable. The lid of the dumpster opened gently, and Trigger peered inside. Coen’s paw following shortly after.

“’You still wanna go?” He asked, eyes shining. Coen was hopping, trying to get a glimpse inside the tall bin.

No, not really. Quil thought

“I suppose so,” he shrugged.

The three boys set off, Coen’s hand in Trigger’s and Quil shuffling his feet nervously. They made their way out of the yard and headed downtown.

Downtown was a strange place. Apartments stacked over buildings, small shops lined the corners, and alleyways lurked everywhere. Aboveground passageway bridges linked building to building. Bright colored cloths poured over them. Tythos, Arods, and Elanders walking across them. Clothing lines hung from one end of a building to the another building; Positive activity buzzed around in the sunlight.

Lurking in the shadows were more juvenile outcasts, slinking edgley around, raising suspicious eyebrows.

Destleworn was a decently large town, but Trigger prefered being in the"quite lonely" corner of town.

A few minutes had passed before the school appeared in sight, arching high above their heads.

It’s twice as large as Clau’s mansion, thought Quil. Trigger, taking the lead, pulled back the door and held it open, indicating Coen and Quil to pass. He shot Trigger a grateful glance as he did.

Bracing himself as if a tornado was overhead, Quil anxiously walked in, a wave of unfamiliar voices crashing over him. He opened one eye, looking at the mass of divided groups. He was a mewling kitten in the midst of a thunderstorm.

He looked back, eyes widened when he realized both Coen and Trigger had merged into the crowd. Quil felt his fur standing on end with panic until an unfamiliar hand tapped him on his left shoulder. He glimpsed backwards where he was tapped, but nobody stood there. Instead, the person who tapped him sidestepped to the right. She laughed as Quil’s eyes were wide with confusion. There, stood a short,"but not as short as Quil"long-armed, blue, raccoon-like Tytho with the feathers of a bluejay. Her eyes were squarish and she had round ears, a long tail, and small pawed feet. She wore a brightly colored t-shirt and tie-dye shorts.

Wow, I can’t believe someone as cute as her would talk to me...

“I’m Erin,” Erin said awkwardly after a moment of silence when Quil looked at her.

“Oh er"I mean"Oh, hello!” He fumbled through his sentence like tripping on his shoelaces. He couldn’t look directly in her brilliant eyes, for he felt as though maggots would devour him alive.

This must be Trigger’s new friend! He never said she was so... Beautiful! Quil thought, face turning pink with embarrassment at his own strange behavior.

“You must be Quil"Trigger’s friend. I’m the new student"Also Trigger’s friend,” her whiskers twitched with amusement.

Well that explains why she’s talking to me... But she knows my name!

“Well, I’d better be heading out,” she said, flicking her ears towards the hallway ahead.

“I don’t want to be late; see you ’round?” She asked, bright green eyes glowing hopefully. Quil shifted his hands uncomfortably with disappointment.

“Y-yeah! Umm, see you around...” Quil answered, voice dwindling as she walked away. But his voice reappeared when she was supposedly out of earshot, “beautiful...” He finished.

To his dismay she turned, amusement twinkling in her eyes. Face flushed with hot, pink embarrassment, Quil turned only to find an array of older students watching him, exchanging amused glances. Gus was among them. His gaze locked with Quil’s. Gus’s face hardened. His tail was lashing. Gus was struggling to to stop himself from lunging at Quil, his friends holding his arms back. Quil hurried away, confused and scared.

* * *

Lunch approached and Quil sat outside on the benches to eat lunch"Well, he didn’t have lunch but he sat there anyways. Quil suddenly felt very self-conscious of the trash-stench that clung to him.

I’ll change that soon enough. Quil told himself. Trigger walked over to him, Venus, Barley, and Coen following shortly behind him.

Venus was a lean, dog-like, black tytho with a large, jagged beak. He had similar eyes to that of Clau, but round and welcoming. Venus was wearing skinny jeans, his small, curled tail poking out from it. Barley was a bashful, cat-like, quiet Arod with two sets of ears, one big and the other goat-like. He had long, drooping fur and a short snout.

Gus isn’t here, Quil pointed out silently as he looked around the table.

Quil hadn’t seen Erin since this morning, and he had been impatiently waiting for her arrival. As if summoning her with his thoughts, she appeared through the opened doors, eyes lighting up as she saw Quil and hurried over to him. Quil expected her to sit by the open side of Trigger, but she chose to sit by Quil, setting her tray down beside him. He felt like butterflies were ripping through his stomach.

“Oops, I forgot something, I’ll be back in a moment,” Erin said, standing up and skipping back to the doorway. Quil watched her go, smiling.

She’s so beautiful... I think she likes me... I sure like her...

Trigger, who sat across the table, leaned over to him.

“You like her, don’t you?” He said, eyes sparkling with acknowledgement. Quil was distracted, watching the doorway"waiting for her", so he simply answered, without thinking,

“uh, no I don’t like you. I like Erin.”

Oh my gosh! What in the world did I just say? Quil squirmed with embarrassment, resting his blushing face in his hands. A moment of silence passed before anyone stirred.

Venus snorted the water he was drinking through his nose, erupting with laughter. Barley rest his head in one elbow, pounding the table with uncontrollable laughter in the other. Quil could hear Trigger’s controlled giggling.

Now, Erin sat down beside him. Quil’s head was still in his hands, but he could just barely"through the space between his fingers"make out her cerulean feathered tail. She, too, was giggling.

Oh no! What did she hear... How long has she been there? Quil looked up from his palms, face sweating. He pushed his hat over his eyes, jaw quivering with chargin.

Quil could tell that there was something she wanted to say to him, but she never did, not for now, at least.

* * *

RIINNG!

The school bell sounded throughout the building, bouncing off the narrow hallways. Ever since lunch, Quil had been pondering the look on Erin’s face. Perhaps he’d get a chance to ask her later. As he walked out of the school, somewhat buried in a sea of eager students, he struggled to come to a decision: Should he wait for her or would that be too weird?

No, I should wait for her.

Once again, it felt as if she was summoned by his thoughts. Her blue feathers shone out from the dull, boring colors of the other Tythos. Her gaze met his, his face brightened, but she looked at her feet as she shuffled over to him.

“Are you walking home?” He asked, his voice high-pitched and tight. She paused before replying, “yes, but my home’s not far from here.”

Quil’s pelt grew hot with guilt as he saw Trigger, who was looking rather disappointed at him. Quil sent a silent sorry but Trigger looked away.

“Uhh,” Erin began after a few heartbeats of walking down the rather busy sidewalk.

“Well what you said",” she closed her eyes.

“I’m sorry... I just"I don’t like you...”

Quil stopped dead in his tracks.

“Like I like you, but I don’t like, like like you...” She turned, and apologetic dullness shone in her eyes. Before Quil had time to react, she continued, “Trigger informed me about your situation at home,” she blinked, “he told me that I should... well...” Quil didn’t need to hear any more, instead, he whipped around, fists clenched.

Trigger! I should have known he was behind all this... It was too good to be true! Quil could feel the blood pulsing from from his warm ears. Erin called after him, but he didn’t turn. He stalked away, mind storming with anger.

Chapter Five

Eerie Egress

ᴛʀɪɢɢᴇʀ ʀᴇʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ fᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ ᴏf the cascading, cold waterfall on his back. Earlier, he returned from school with an empty, hollow feeling of loneliness. Quil seemed to be taking a liking to Erin, and Trigger tried to understand, but he couldn’t help but feel a little envious.

It’s really no big deal. He’d tell himself over and over, time after time. Trigger combed his fingers through his drenched hair. The slow-moving river surrounded his waist and swallowed his tail, which was quite a bit lower than usual. Cold mist pooled about the tranquil falls, the thunderous roar of rushing waters oddly peaceful despite its power. Lush, evergreen growth sprouted all around, lining the crevices with its heavenly colors; Vines hung from the ravine sides and the jutting rocks were now a light violet, due to the falling sun.

Dusk was slowly creeping from the blue horizon, leaving the long, ribbon-like clouds with a pink cotton color. The river had its distinct smell, almost like the inside of the musty cave, though not as strong; It was more earthy.

Trigger waded through the water over to a flat, warm rock. He crawled up it and laid down, his fur splashing the rock with its droplets. The rock wasn’t as hot as he hoped it would. Judging by the time of day, it was probably due to the creeping moons. Trigger closed his eyes, not willing another thought into his mind other than about how beautiful it looked here. Suddenly, he found himself rather weary.

He opened one eye to peer at the cliffside, which rose high above his head. Trigger hauled himself up, then stretched his arms until they trembled. He leaped off the rock, only to delve into the peaceful river; the river’s water swirled around him as he easily slipped through it. Trigger walked onto the smooth, hard mud. His paws sinking softly into them. Small open pockets of water flourished about the mud-sand, dazzling with the same iridescent glimmer; Minnow-like tiny fish in some, flicking restlessly is small circles. Crickets had been summoned by the descending sun, and their chirping emitted an odd, night-time swamp feeling.

Trigger gazed up at the darkened sky, consuming all of the purple’s and red’s. One moon was visible, the smaller one was still yet to show itself; Stars were beginning to show; The red sun had already left, but its pale, pink light still managed to grip the terrain. Trigger padded softly in the sand, heading the same direction as the river so he could climb the hill as the cliffside dwindled. Now, the waterfalls’ roaring was just a quiet noise in the distance; A whisper, perhaps, to those without the hearing of Trigger’s. He closed his eyes, allowing his feet and his familiarity with the land to guide him.

* * *

Trigger found himself in the clouds above his city. They swirled around him with a red-stained glow.

I’m... floating! Trigger realized with a feeling of butterflies in his stomach. As he gazed around, the clouds parted and Trigger pummeled down, down, down into the city. Suddenly, the landscape changed around him. It looked as if he was in a differing city. The once-tall apartments with brightly colored cloths draped over above-ground passageways were now dilapidated ruins of what they used to be; Fire blazed; The sky was black; Both moons were blood red. An omen? No. A promise.

Trigger couldn’t move a muscle as he fell to his doom, though he couldn’t feel the wind, which would’ve probably normally ripped his fur off at the rate he moved. He was slipping through the air as if he was wind. A heartbeat before he hit the ground, a massive, blue-purple, giant robot-Tytho broke his fall, its hand grabbing Trigger with little to no effort. It brought him close to its face, which was as big as Trigger’s whole house.

Beady eyes.

Trigger was upside down and he wanted to scream at the horrifying monstrosity and the surprising situation, but the words were stuck in his mouth. Then, it swung him back like a bowling ball and crashed him into yet another towering giant. Trigger saw the knotted face of Clau, his birth father. With relief, Trigger felt himself being gently lifted from the ground by his father. But as he was high as Claus's face, Clau’s claws released him.

Beady eyes.

He caught a glimpse of the malice on Clau’s face while he was unfettered from his father’s care. Trigger was dropped yet again down to the ground, head over heels. It reminded him of when he fell into the gorge. A second before he was split open by the force of impact, Trigger jerked awake.

Trigger awoke to the sound of bird’s chirping and cicadas’ buzzing. He was on the floor of his treehouse. He was flat on his face and his blanket was half on the bed, and half on him.

It was a dream! Trigger sighed, struggling to his bed, hands quivering. He went over what happened in the dream for the next few minutes until the hatch to the trap door opened. Coen’s head popped up. “Trigger?” He said, glancing around, lifting his hat up so he could see.

“Yeah?”  Trigger yawned, scratching the back of his head.

“Father’s worried about you,” Coen said as he climbed back down the ladder, slowly due to his stubby legs. Trigger sat alone in the treehouse, listening to the creaking from the branches above. Perhaps I should tell Clau about the dream... He imagined Clau’s face during the dream, shuddering at the thought. Quil’s words played in the back of his mind, about how Clau would rule and his loved ones would die. He pushed the thoughts away. I’ll just seek what Clau has to say about the dream.

* * *

“Bye! I’m off to Venus’s house!” Trigger lied to his father. “Bye!” Trigger called again, waving his arms high above his head.

“Goodbye!” Val and Coen said in synch, Val waving while Coen jumping about.

In actuality, Trigger was heading to Clau’s house, but he didn’t want Val to know. Deep down, guilt wormed in Trigger stomach as he headed down the dirt road leading to the city.

Simultaneously, Coen lurked nearby. Trigger wouldn’t let me go to see Venus but it’ll be real funny when I surprise them! Coen smirked, pushing his hat out of his eyes.

* * *

Trigger arrived at Clau’s mansion, the intricate details shone with the rising sun, building rising high into the sky. Even though Hank and Clau lived alone, they were rich and wanted to show off their wealth.

Trigger knocked twice.

Knock knock.

Almost at once, the grand door swung open and an angry face emerged from the shadows to peer at him. Though, its expression softened as he recognized Trigger. His jagged frown twisted into a loving smile.

“Dear son! Oh, how glad I am to see you here!” Clau swung the door open, allowing Trigger to pass through. “I thought you had left me...” He sniffed, eyes closing. To any other creature with sense, this was definitely a faulty facade to manipulate Trigger. But Trigger loved his birth father; He believed all that Clau said. Wouldn’t you?

“I’d never leave you!” Trigger’s eyes shined.

The mansion had carved, hardwood, beautifully glossy walls lined with golden trim and patterns. Staircased parted to open up to a massive room: a giant dome. The dome was big enough to hold at least three of Trigger’s houses. They padded through the dome, toenails echoing throughout the walls.

Through the mansion they weaved until they reached a cozy room, a fireplace set high and it looked more welcoming than the rest of the house. The fire crackled and flew in various directions, in an attempt to escape itself.

Trigger told Clau about the dream, and to Trigger’s dismay, his father’s face hardened with every word Trigger said. But when Trigger was finished, Clau turned his long, bare neck around to look away, only to turn back with a warm smile. “I had the exact same dream! I know what it means, too.”

Trigger’s ears pricked with interest. “You did? What does it mean?”

“Come, walk with me,” Clau said, brushing his wine-colored robe. Trigger walked off after him, eyes glowing.

“You see, there is...” Clau paused, “well, I am the last on this planet to know about this, and I wish to pass this information to my son.” He cleared his throat. “When I was just a child"your age" everyone around Fijsa knew about Innterlott.”

“Innterlott?” Trigger echoed, eyes sparkling like the fire. Clau opened a single black eye to look at Trigger. “Yes. Innterlott is... Innterlott is an alternative dimension. Though, Innterlott has long been forgotten about. But at one period of time, both Fijsa and Innterlott lived together in an unfaltering relation. Tythos and... Creatures... lived together in harmony. Though, a figure destroyed the peace between these races and exploded the portal, leaving all those...” Clau swiped a tear from his face, “Poor, poor Tythos to be trapped inside of the dimension.”

Trigger blinked with emotion, “That’s terrible!”

Trigger had now forgotten about the dream entirely. He was so intrigued by the tale.

“I want to reunite these two worlds, but my bones have grown old and weary. I am no longer the Tytho I was before.” Clau shook his head.

“Though,” he looked up hopefully, “I’m certain an agile, strong, young Tytho"you" could enter the dimension and retrieve a substance necessary for regenerating the essence of the portal.”

“M-Me?” Trigger stammered.

“Yes. Trigger, dearest son, you are the only one capable to do this and I only have enough of the portal to accompany a young child. You.”

“C-Can I have some time to think about th"” Trigger started, but was interrupted by Clau.

“No, it must be done now. Soon the remains of the portal will evaporate and all that was left from the dimension will be gone. Everything in it will die, too.”

“Oh...” Trigger looked at his feet. “I’m not so sure I am capable to do this...”

“Nonsense!” Clau bellowed. “You are son of Clau, the richest Tytho. This is what your mother would’ve wanted.” That was the first time Clau had ever mentioned his mother, other times Clau avoided the question.

A lump formed in Trigger’s throat. “My mother?” He croaked, voice cracking with emotion. “Is she alive then?”

“She, too, was lost in the misery of Innterlott’s demise. I am not sure if she is alive or dead, but I am certain that only you can answer the answers you seek.” Clau unlocked a drawer. Inside was the smallest beaker of a black, gleaming substance. Trigger gulped.

“I this is the last of the portal. It is rather bitter. What food would you like me to put it on?” Clau asked, his hunched-over shape drawing long shadows from the stained-glass windows.

Trigger thought for a moment. “Bread?” He said after hesitation.

Clau nodded, they headed to the kitchen. He poured a slight dose of the slow-moving, almost tar-like, substance. It sunk into the bread, invisible.

They left the bread on the counter and walked again around the building.

“There’s a certain substance you need to find. It’s called Juinarsatji. There is only one place you can find it. I’m not going to say it will be easy, but here’s what you have to to...”

* * *

I never knew Venus’s house was so big! Coen thought lifting his hat out of his eyes so he could see the very top. Trigger told me Venus lived under a bridge.

Coen looked the building from side to side, not wanting to ruin the suprise by using the front door. After about twenty minutes of circling the building once, he found an open window. Sniffing, his mouth watered as he picked up the scent of freshly-baked bread. Coen propped the window so he could fit and squirmed inside. Coen landed with a quiet thud. His fat belly stuck out and his overalls were bulging. He swiped his tongue over his lips, jumping to try to reach the delicious, warm food. Coen couldn’t reach the bread, but swiped a finger on what he thought was its melted butter.

Footsteps approached. Venus and Trigger!

Coen leaped behind the island in the midst of the huge kitchen. He hid there, trying to contain his excitement. Coen smelled the melted liquid, which didn’t smell like anything. Of course not! It’s butter after all.

Trigger was talking to somebody but Coen couldn’t make out what he was saying, nor could he see the other Tytho. He saw Trigger taking a bite of the bread. Simultaneously, Coen licked the butter off of his finger to hide the noise.

In an instant, Coen’s vision grew distorted. He collapsed on himself and in the next moment, he was falling through a vibrant colored tunnel, its walls poking and laughing at him. Devilish faces peered out of holes and tiny hands reached out to feel him as he twirled past. Not a thought could reach Coen’s mind as he was so crazed at what was happening. The thin tunnel gave way to a large, black, vast open area of nothing. No light reached Coen. Blackness overcame him.

Then, Coen rolled out of a swirling, almost water-like puddle from the ground.

Coen and Trigger reached Innterlott.

Little did Trigger know that Clau needed the liquid in order to link himself to the beast which would destroy both dimensions.

The monster that Trigger saw in his dream.

Trigger fell for the trap, Coen, too.

The have been deceived.

Sent to the underworld.

They may never seen the sunlight from Fijsa ever again.

Hell.

The dimension in which monsters resided.

Innterlott.

Clau sent his son to hell.

Clau is the one who burned the harmony and killed thousands. He hadn’t finished the deed so he sent his son to do so.

Hell.

Innterlott.