Passage Through the Mist - - winner

Crom walked on the shore of a tumultuous dark sea near the side wall of a castle. It was a moonless night when his eyes gazed at the sandy surf with shells and sharp boulders lining the water’s edge. He switched his glance to the sea. I know it’s out there but where?” Crom sighed as he thought. I feel it. But if I do find it, what will I wish for?

Suddenly a gale blew on his raven-black hair and lighted over his light face. He heard the lull of the soft wind. With the gust of air came a small voice. He stopped and listened and was drawn to a small white shell the size of his palm. The voice became clearer as he finally neared it. Crom picked it up and put it to his ear.

“Crom, it is I, Scatha, your mother.”

“How is this possible?”

“Those three years ago when the wizard killed me, my spirit was imprisoned at the bottom of the sea. With the power of the Mist Rune we may be able to be reunited.”

“Where is it?” asked Crom.

Slowly a mist began to coalesce and thicken on the water line. Finally it was too dense see through.

“Walk through,” Scatha’s voice uttered.

Crom hesitated. His mouth gaped as he stretched forth his hand to touch the wall of mist. It made his hand tingle that went up the young man’s his arm. He slowly walked through the mist yet he did not feel any wetness above his shin high boots. Where had the sea gone?

Soon he began to see before him. He saw he was next to old castle on an island. The ancient structure was surrounded by grass. Blankets of silver fog draped over the landscape. Crom heard the cry of a raven. He looked up and saw a large raven with eyes aglow with a green hue. Just as the bird announced itself, it flew away.

Crom shivered in the coldness. He inhaled the moist scent of grass. Moss and vines covered the cracked stonework of the castle. He came to a low ceilinged, narrow corridor and saw a throne perfectly whole and well kept. He entered what was of course the throne room. Suddenly a human figure appeared sitting on the throne.

“I am the spirit of King Darvy, Lord of Ithrial where this citadel lay.” King Darvy was in a robe of pure gold needlework with embroidered gems on it. “How did you come here?”

“My mother’s spirt is imprisoned in the sea, cursed to be there by a wizard. She made a mist leading me here.”

“So she has learned of the powers of sea and mist.”

“What do you mean?”

“Beneath the waves of the seas of earth, great power untapped by humans is gathered. Wizards like the one that banished your mother’s soul, have since used and tainted most power on the surface.”

“My mother told me to come here. Do you know where the Mist Rune is?”

“To obtain it you must kill a water monster in a lake in the center of this island. You are unarmed. I will give you war implements.” Darvy clapped his hands and suddenly Crom was equipped with a helmet, sword and shield. “Take the door to your right,” the spirit said pointing.

Once again he walked through a corridor. Crom began to sweat and his heart beat faster. Finally he made it to a large open aired lake. It was still as stone.

He came to the edge of the lake. Suddenly a streak of green exploded into the air. Above him loomed a sea serpent with fins and horns on hits face and spine.

Crom was wide eyed. He shook himself and struck the serpent’s long towering body. It did nothing!

“Its mouth and eyes are the only thing not covered by scales. It must strike first. My blade must get near its head!” Crom exclaimed to himself.

Moments later, it lunged for Crom. He thrust his blade and snagged its tip at the base of a large scythe-like tooth. The tooth ripped out as a spray of blood poured over Crom. The beast roared and writhed around dripping blood over the water surface. Next its throat expanded as water spewed forth.

Crom held up his shield. Suddenly, a tail swung around and hit him. He went flying into the trunk of a tree. He was stunned. The serpent reeled back to strike again. Crom gathered himself and rolled to his side. The monster’s teeth were stuck in the tree. Crom fought stand and hobbled to the struggling behemoth. The young warrior hopped on its head and impaled its eye. A putrid smell came as it cried in pain. After a few more minutes it was still.

Crom, collapsed and Darvy appeared in front of the exhausted human.

“You’ve won. The Mist Rune is yours.” Darvy gave victorious Crom a golden shell.”

“Crom was in tears. “At last, I have it!”

“Make your wish.”

The young man was quiet for a time. “I wish for my mother to live again!”

Darvy shook his head. “I am sorry. Some things even the Mist Rune cannot do.”

Crom looked down. “I see. If I can’t bring her back, then I wish for her soul to pass on into heaven to live with God, His Son and the angels.”

Suddenly thick mist enveloped Crom and he was lifted in the air and set back on the ground. The mist dispersed and he was back on the sea shore. A white flame hovered before him and spoke.

“Thank you my son. I wish I could live with you again but I am going to a better place. We’ll be reunited. Until then live in joy.”

The flame disappeared and Crom fell to his knees and cried. “Yes…until then.”