Chapter 1: 1. A Second Chance

The rough feel of dirt tingled my skin, and I made to move, before an overwhelming pressure forced me back down. I tried yelling, but they rewarded my actions with spikes of pain when my broken jaw dug into the ground.

 

“Stay in the dirt where you belong, scum,” one bandit said.

 

“You find anything worth a coin or two?” another bandit asked.

 

I struggled in vain. How had the situation escalated so drastically in such a short period of time? I still remembered waking up this morning excited to reunite with my sister the next day. If only I’d known that things would go to hell so quickly, I wouldn’t have wasted my last day on such trivial things…..

 

1 hour earlier:

 

I awoke to the familiar chirps of the sparrows perched on the branches sprawled outside my window. Rolling to the side of my bed, I was greeted with beams of light streaming through the window and lingering on my drowsy form, reminiscent of feather-light touches that my mother had peppered my skin when I’d been younger.

 

Cajoling my groggy body into moving was a struggle in and of itself, and it was suitably grumpy Alex that stomped into the dining room with all the elegance and grace of a lead-footed troll.

 

(I call it a dining room but that was being generous. It barely amounted to a disheveled table that had planks of wood stuck upright and was heavily skewed to one side, courtesy of a leg that had met an untimely demise at the hands of Amara and I. It’d been patched up through the inexperienced efforts of my father, and it was easy to see that woodworking was a field in which he lacked skill; the damaged leg was a good inch shorter than the other three. Three chairs that were in a similarly downtrodden state were scattered around the table, with a fourth chair located outside the house to support the bending roof.)

 

The surface of the table was barren of food, a byproduct of the fact that we were leaving to visit my sister in the capital tomorrow. Stocking up on enough food to last the long ride through the countryside was crucial, and that meant rationing beforehand. My father was long gone, having woken up at the crack of dawn to finish up the last of his commissions. Three months was a long time to be gone, and without taking precautions, his blacksmithing business would collapse. My mother was most likely tearfully exchanging goodbyes with her circle of friends. Speaking of goodbyes…..

 

I poked my head out the doorway, warily glancing back and forth. I didn’t put it past Rob to tackle me to the ground as a ‘special goodbye’ reserved for the most ‘grandiose of occasions’—me leaving for a quarter of the year definitely qualified. Worst of all, Rob didn’t even possess any malicious intent in his rough handling; he truly believed I would appreciate his grappling as a goodbye gift, probably to take my mind off the impending worry that loomed over all of us. This was the first time since meeting my friends and being deemed ‘inseparable’ by the village that I’d been separated from them for so long. 

 

In all honesty, I was looking forward to the long trek on the road with only my parents for company. I would definitely miss Rob, Tami, and Marilyn, but having been joined at the hip with them for the past eight years was a strenuous ordeal, especially taking into account the way their outgoing personalities clashed with my more lethargic attitude. Not to mention it would be fun to not be constantly compared to my friends and be seen as lacking. Of course, if there was one person it was going to miss, it would be Amara.

 

My best friend ever since I first met her and the staunchest ally I could have asked for. If Rob, Tami, Marilyn, and I were considered inseparable, the village viewed the pair of us as an ironclad duo—where there was one, you were sure to find the other not far behind. That wasn’t exactly true—there had been plenty of times where we found ourselves at odds and had to put distance between us for our own sakes, those were few and far between. For the most part, I couldn’t deny the frankly embarrassing title.

 

A sharp rebuke cut through my musing and I glanced up just in time to avoid running into a moving cart. Throwing out a couple of hasty apologies to the back of the grumbling driver, I took a break and studied my surroundings. 

 

I was situated near the outskirts of the village, bordering the mellow fields nearby. It didn’t take a genius to realize that I’d been so immersed in my thoughts that I had unknowingly let my body take over and follow the well-worn path that had been ingrained into my feet after countless times traveling this way. 

 

Squinting and protecting my eyes from the harsh glare of the sun, I scoured the terrain for the familiar sight of the rolling hills. It was easy to locate the vibrant green that marked the location, especially with how the sunlight glinted against the individual blades of grass, rippling in the gentle summer breeze and resulting in a cascading effect. Stationed at the peak of the hill was a silhouette outlined by the solar beams, casting rotating shadows on the fields below. 

 

As I began my climb up the steep incline, feeling no small amount of disgust at the way my fingers dig into the messy combination of wet mud and grass, the shadows appeared to fall off of the silhouette to reveal the elegant feature that was the mark of Amara: flowing shoulder-length hair, unmarred china white skin, and a child-like aura that was present in how she absentmindedly kicked her legs in the air.

 

I stalled in my climbing to bask in her beauty. It was starting to hit me with frightening clarity that I wasn’t going to see Amara for months on end. My stomach churned at the revelation and something in my gut hissed in protest. I could live without seeing my other friends, but Amara was different. 

 

Amara sighed and the wind carried her petite voice downhill to my ears. The noise broke me from my stupor and I realized I’d passed the quota of staring at her back without it becoming creepy by a significant amount. I quickly clambered up the rest of the slope and planted my feet against the hilltop, trying to announce my presence without being too obvious. I didn’t want to be the one to initiate conversation; for some reason, it felt like I’d stumbled across something private and solemnly sacred. There was a new gulf between us, even though I could close the distance in only a couple of steps.

 

Amara turned around with agonizing slowness as time seemed to slow to a crawl. I was hyper-aware of every minute detail, every tiny twitch that ran through her body as inch by inch, her face was revealed to me. I studiously examined her face, trying to decipher her stone cold expression. What was usually an open book, ripe for me to turn the pages and read her thoughts, was completely shut off from my analyses. Her eyes, which had practically been windows into her soul ever since I honed the ability to decipher her face, were now intelligible as if shutters had come down and closed me off. For the first time in years, I was out of the loop, and I didn’t like it. 

 

It felt like we stood in this stalemate for a hundred years, isolated in separate worlds on top of this lonely hilltop, the wind being the sole witness to this staredown. Amara’s eyes were locked firmly on me and for a second, I wondered if she’d turned into a mage because it felt like she cast a spell on me with her gaze alone. I tried to implore to the kinder side of her that I knew was somewhere behind that visage through my eyes, making them round and plaintive. I wouldn’t be surprised if they became shimmer with a light coating of tears either. She remained unmoved by my frankly outstanding efforts, as solid and emotionless as a statue. Something in me—something vital that I couldn’t quite put a finger on—shriveled up and died a pitiful death. 

 

Before I made a fool of myself apologizing, Amara’s face softened by a fraction, resembling the gentle girl I was more familiar with. She released a long-suffering sigh that hung in the air between us like a particularly heavy anvil, about to drop.

 

“Look,” she began in a tone that I’d come to term her ‘diplomatic voice.’ “We both know what’s going to happen tomorrow. Instead of making it awkward and ending the day in a fight, let’s just enjoy it together and make enough fond memories to last us through your trip.”

 

It sounded good on paper, but a part of me recoiled at the thought of leaving whatever worries that were plaguing Amara unchecked. Past experiences with people who were no longer friends had wisened me up to the truth that differences and fractures in relationships that were allowed to fester could rapidly grow from a miniscule problem into an unbreachable wall that tore friendships apart from the inside. The thought of the same thing happening with Amara, of returning home just to find that my best friend had turned her back on me, was a pain not unlike the time I broke my leg—only, the pain was from within.

 

However, this was Amara we were talking about. The same girl who tenderly took care of me while I recovered from my broken leg and was always there to lend me a comforting shoulder. If I didn’t trust her enough to go a few months without our relationship imploding, it was as good as gone anyway. The cold shoulder she was giving me had been a bucket of freezing water to my system and an unpleasant reminder that all good times came to an end.

 

Despite this, I would fight for our friendship with everything I had and so I swallowed any reservations and accepted the proposal. “Sure, let’s do that.”

 

Prolonged silence followed my exclamation and doubt started to creep in—I became all too aware of my heart pounding in my rib cage like a staccato drum. Then Amara smiled and it was like seeing the sun after a heavy deluge of rain. I soaked in the brilliance that her grin exuded and let it sink into my bones; some of the undesirable weight like an overweight elephant had been using my chest as his chair was lifted. True, I was a bit perturbed by the night and day contrast in personality; it was like a switch had been flipped and Amara transformed into an entirely different person. Still, it was comforting to know that the Amara I knew and loved was in there, if a bit obscured by the cloud of angst that trudged after her.

 

The time passed in a blur as we committed countless acts of flippant fun with little regard for the general sanity of those who had the unfortunate luck to stumble upon us while we succumbed in the wrathful flames of passion, ranging from childish games to planning out the next stage in our ever growing empire of pranks to employ once I returned. I let myself sink into the sea of joy that seemed never ending, and didn’t allow my mind to go to the fact that throughout the time spent together, we didn’t once talk about the uncomfortable silence. We masterfully skirted around ‌me leaving, skimming along the edge when needed but otherwise avoiding it like it was a dragon’s egg.

 

Several times during our escapades, when Amara thought I was concentrating on stacking the cards or was too busy poring over our notes, I spotted her observing me with a scrutinizing gaze—as if she was trying to dissect me with her thoughts and willpower alone. It was unnerving, especially when I could feel her stare on the back of my neck like miniscule prickles, dozens of them acting as needles sliding into my skin. 

 

I resisted the urge to confront her about her staring, believing it was Amara’s method of coping with my eventual departure. There were definitely stranger ways of doing so, and in the grand picture, sneaking a couple of peeks at your wayward friend before he left was low on the list of ‘creepy/horrific acts.’ Even with that line of thought, though, it was becoming increasingly more difficult to pretend like I didn’t see the sorrow swirling in her eyes like a ravenous whirlpool. She tried her best to hide it, adopted a delightful smile and held up her cheery disposition, but there were cracks in her armor where her true feelings slipped through.

 

Whenever she believed I wasn’t looking, her lips curled downward ever so slightly and the corner of her eyes crinkled in thought. She didn’t suddenly transform into a malicious entity, far from it. Instead, everything about her became just a little sadder: her tiny smile was more genuine than the facade she was keeping up, but it practically screamed ‘I’m in pain’ to me. Even her posture and aura was brimming with energy akin to a dejected puppy that was kicked to the curb. 

 

It was honestly a little shocking how badly she was taking the news. It wasn’t as if I’d sprung it out of the blue; she’d known my family had been planning a trip to the capital to see my sister for months now. We’d spent many mornings with me blabbering endlessly about how excited I was while she listened with a smile on her face—an authentic smile, not the visage she wore right now. All those times, she’d taken the news in stride and carried on. 

 

It was heartbreaking to see Amara—kind Amara who had a heart of gold and the patience of a saint—be so obviously distraught yet trying desperately to prevent it from showing as to now ruin the mood. It wasn’t really working, but I commended her for her effort, and it was the thought that counted. That she would go to such lengths to make our last day together a good one that she would conceal her emotions was enough to make my heart throb—but I wasn’t sure in a good way.

 

I liked Amara because of who she was—all the intricate aspects and traits that combined to create the wonderful person she was. She laid herself bare to me and I did the same; honesty was the foundation of our friendship. Her actions brought back the persistent fear about the fate of our friendship.

 

“Alex? Are you okay?” Amara asked, leaning her head forward. I met her head on and studied her: her wide eyes that showed no deceit and the concern that shadowed her face. She was biting her lips, a nervous habit that she picked up when her brother was gravely ill and she wasn’t sure if he would live. Amara herself probably didn’t know she was doing it; I took pride knowing that I was the only one who could read her so well. But it was exactly because of this closeness that I didn’t know what to do.

 

I opened my mouth intending to ask her how she truly felt about me leaving, but my lips twisted at the last second and what tumbled out instead was: “Yeah, yeah, I’m completely fine. No worries.” I gave a half-hearted smile that came out more like a grimace to comfort her.

 

Amara didn’t look convinced by my flimsy attempts but went along with it all the same, diving back into dealing out the cards with relish. I chuckled wearily and tried to submerge myself into the experience like I had seconds before, but this whole thing suddenly felt like a fraud. A fake.

 

Playing with cards and other games, picking flowers to weave them into various bracelets and crowns, plotting the next big prank, chatting about our days and anything that was on our mind at the moment without a care in the world….that was our routine but now, it felt like a play we were forced to partake and our dialogue was a script written by someone who didn’t have a clue what made our morning time together special. It was stifling, and I had to calculate what to say before I said it, and I despised it. This wasn’t what I wanted, and I knew it wasn’t what Amara wanted.

 

I directed my gaze towards the village, hoping the familiar sight would help me figure out a way to escape this uncomfortable situation, and that was why I was the first to notice the trail of smoke climbing out of the village and the line of unknown carriages parked nearby. Almost immediately after, the scent of charcoal made my nostrils flare.

 

“Amara?” I called her. The warning edge in my voice was enough to wipe the smile off her face as she dropped the cards and came to my side. Any trace of glee left in her eyes vanished the instant she spotted the same things I did.

 

“Let’s go.” she ordered before leaping off the hill and sliding down the slope with an athleticism I couldn’t hope to replicate. I only hesitated a second before following suit, unwilling to leave Amara or the people in the village to face whatever threat had befallen us. 

 

While I slid/tumbled down the hill, I kept my eyes on the carriages. They were of an unfamiliar design, and while that wasn’t surprising in of itself, considering I didn’t make a habit of knowing every carriage that went by this area, the sheer abundance of carriages was unwarranted for a village of this size. There must have been a dozen. 

 

It was possible they were nomadic people who stopped by our village for food and shelter, but that didn’t correlate with the plume of smoke that was much thicker than what the village-sanctioned fire for cooking caused. Just seeing the carriages made my stomach turn, and unbidden, a portion of one of the annual letters my sister wrote to me rang in my head.

 

“I heard there’s been some increase in bandit attacks in the countryside. It’s far away from where we live, but be careful, all right?”

 

Amara and I hit the ground roughly, and it was as if we entered an entirely different world. Although the hilltop wasn’t far from the village, its height and the winds that were native to that altitude ripped apart any sound coming from the village before it could reach us. That feature was one of the many reasons we claimed the hilltop as our spot: up there, we could retain the safety of our home while also pretending like we were in a completely different world.

 

On the surface floor, the smell of ash made my head swim and my lungs protested. I instinctively covered my mouth as screams filled the air and the earth shook under the force of hundreds of footsteps. The source of the disturbance was easy to find: in front of us was a sea of people in a panic, sprinting in every direction, hoping to escape whatever was taking place further in the village. There was no order to this madness, no rules or plans that they were following: it was complete anarchy.

 

I gagged at the sight of the people I grew up with reduced to frenzied beasts, their primal survival instincts kicking over and throwing their morality to the side. I watched as a grown man kicked a small child down and didn’t bother to help him up in his rush to escape, only to get body-slammed by someone else and have both fall out of my line of sight. 

 

I wanted to help, but wandering into this ocean of terror without a plan was suicidal. We wouldn’t last a second before getting trampled on, and then we’d be of no help. It was difficult to gather rational thoughts when screams were the only thing that filled my head whenever I closed my eyes, but ‌climbing up the hill was the best course of action. The villagers were in the throes of madness but it wouldn’t be long before they too came to the same conclusion. Before they swamped the hill, it would be best to climb up and get a better view of what was going on.

 

I turned to tell Amara this, but she pulled me first, yanking me forward and almost off my feet with the abrupt nature of her action. I whipped my head up in shock just in time to see her mouth before, clearly in a declaration of sorts, with her hair frazzled and her eyes glowing with a fierce protectiveness. I was taken by the warrior spirit that appeared to surround her like a halo, so much so that I didn’t realize her intent until it was too late.

 

She turned around and jumped into the fray. I lunged in after her, to no avail: the crowd swallowed Amara instantaneously. Continuing to struggle through the stampede all in the small hopes of reuniting with her was foolish, but the thought of abandoning Amara tore me in half.

 

I was frozen for just a millisecond while I tried to reconcile my thoughts and create a plan, but that was all it took for the tides to turn against me. Someone brutishly pushed me onto the ground and the air was knocked out of me. Wheezing, I cracked open my eyes and discovered a leather sole seconds away from making a mess of my face. I moved my arms to protect my face but the shoe came down and everything went black with a thud.

 

Present time:

 

When I came to, my head was pounding, and it felt like a hundred footsteps had stomped all over my body (which was probably true). The overwhelming clamor had died down, which meant the crisis was over; because everyone had escaped……or because everyone was dead. I wished with my whole soul that it was the former, but something told me I wouldn’t get my wish today. 

 

My gut feeling proved true when I heard footsteps and subdued talking. My ears were still ringing, but I could faintly make out voices.

 

I turned my head, but mounds of dirt and ash obscured my vision. Even with my ears pressed to the dirt, I could hear the crackling flames and the sound of wood falling apart. The sound of my home being razed to the ground.

 

Someone said something that I missed, and I hurriedly focused on the bandits while berating myself. I needed to learn all I could before I mourned. I retraced the conversations and joined in just as a weight thumped to the ground nearby and an unfamiliar voice entered the fray. “Nah, this was a waste of time. These peons have nothing that isn’t rags or brooms.”

 

Someone scoffed. “Figures. Pack it up, boys, we’re moving out!”

 

The pressure on my back lifted and I let out a shuddering gasp, turning myself over and greedily sucking in air. The scent of ash and smoke wasn’t pleasant by any means, but compared to the suffocating texture of the dirt, I appreciated everything.

 

Before I could celebrate, a series of sharp jabs cut through my concentration and elicited several gasps from my battered chest. At first, I wasn’t what the fuck had happened but then warmth spread though upper half as rivulets, streaming down the sides of my chest. From there, it was all too easy to connect the dot and realize I’d been stabbed—multiple times.

 

Upon realization, the pain kicked in like a vengeful scorned ex-lover. My nerves went from 0 to 100 in the span of a second, roaring back to life and making me feel exactly how injured I was. It felt as if somebody had sliced open my skin, poured liquid lava into it, and then waited as the molten hot substance spread through my veins. A gut-wrenching scream split through the air and it took a moment to realize that it was me. I stamped down on the noise as best I could, biting my lip until I tasted iron. The sharp jolt from the puncture wound caused by my teeth was nothing compared to holes made by several inches of steel, but it cut through some of the fog in my mind and gave me some much needed clarity. Enough that I sagged and let all the tension pour out of my muscles against my better judgment. I needed them to believe I was dead.

 

I prayed I hadn’t miscalculated as I heard several footsteps approach, but they walked right past me without stopping. I let out an indistinguishable breath and laid in wait, trying to avoid trembling while my anxiety rose the more footsteps I heard.

 

“You checked everything? Then let’s go. We need to get this package as far away from the Demon Lands as possible. Our client isn’t a patient man.” I risked cracking open my eyes a sliver and saw what looked like a purple monolith on top of a wagon. Strange runes pulsed ominously with a red glow, illuminating the wagon and the surrounding bandits in the same shade. As I stated, enraptured by its foreign nature and the possibility it could really be from the demons, the monolith’s pulse appeared to quicken and adopt a new rhythm. A familiar one. I narrowly avoided furrowing my brows, trying to pinpoint where I heard it before but then it hit me. My blood ran cold: it was the same rhythm as my heartbeat. Could it be? Was the monolith…sentient?

 

A rambunctious cry brought me back to reality and my current depressing situation.

You are reading story Evolution Cubed at novel35.com

 

“There are more towns to pillage!” The monolith was quickly forgotten as a cheer rose in conjunction with the whoosh of flames, stoking a sickening sensation in my chest.

 

Still, I latched onto the one positive. They were going to let me live? Already, I was formulating a plan. I’ll find Amara, Mom, Dad, and my friends. If we head northeast, we can reach the next village by dawn. They’ll definitely help us if they hear about the bandits. I can also send a letter to Sis. 

 

By chance, I looked to the left and my blood ran cold. The fire, the guffaws of the bandits, the soot falling from the sky…all of it faded away as my world zoomed into one thing.

 

Amara’s face, her jaw still slack and eyes in terror.

 

It didn’t mesh with the image I had; I refused to accept it. I still recalled seeing Amara this morning, a bit sad, yes, but alive and well. She was smiling, and I still felt the warm sensation that her grin caused in me. This….this corpse couldn’t be her. It didn’t fit with my understanding of the world. Amara couldn’t die.

 

Any plan I had flew out of my mind and sluggishly, I scrambled towards her. Grabbing her by her shirt, I heaved myself onto her body. I stared down at her face, praying to all the gods I was mistaken. That she would laugh and her eyes would sparkle, just like jewels.

 

Instead, a thin trail of drool ran down her bloodied chin and her eyes remained vacant, a dull sheen covering them.

 

I saw red. Forgoing any plans of escape, I only had one desire: to exact vengeance.

 

The bandits were huddled around their wagon, lifting bags of pilfered goods and food onto it. One of them was standing watch near the monolith. I zeroed in on a dagger strapped to the belt of the watcher.

 

Stumbling to my feet, I sprinted, uncaring of how many glass and wooden shards sliced my feet open. Lunging forward, I grasped the dagger and yanked.

 

It didn’t budge. The owner of the dagger turned, shock registering across his face. Panic fueled my movements and with a surge of newfound strength, I ripped the dagger out of the sheathe.

 

The blade went careening, the tip cutting into the bandit’s face. He tumbled to the ground screaming, but even as the other bandits turned, I was on them.

 

Stabbing the dagger into the stomach of the closest one, I pushed him back. A punch slammed into my guts, driving the air out of me but I pushed the dagger in more.

 

Hands and fists scrambled for purchase around me but in a frenzied rage, I resisted all of it, stabbing the same bandit repeatedly until he slumped against the wagon. Pulling the dagger free from flesh, I lashed out but was met with red-hot pain.

 

Dimly, I glanced down and found a wooden shaft protruding from my chest. Slowly following the length of the spear up, I looked at the grim face of one bandit.

 

The dagger slipped out of my stiff fingers and I toppled to the ground, accidentally hitting the wagon on the way. Something fell with me, but I paid it no heed, instead focusing on the pulsating coldness that was rapidly spreading across my veins.

 

Shit. This is death?

 

The image of Amara’s desecrated body flashed before my eyes.

 

No. I can’t let these bastards get away with this.

 

Something within me, a pull I couldn’t hope to win against, tugged me towards the left and like I was in a hypnotic trance, my hand moved independently. As if it was following a pre-recorded path, my palm landed on something. It was smooth and even though it should have been burning with the nearby fires, it was cool to the touch. Even without seeing it, I knew automatically that it was the monolith. I didn’t have a clue how, but I could feel the energy from the monolith cling to my arm, wrap around me like a possessive creature and bathe me in its glow. I relaxed, knowing instinctively energy wouldn’t hurt me.

 

“Hey! Get him away from that!”

 

The earth ripped away from underneath me and I was tumbling; down, down, down I went. Up became down, right turned left, and reality warped into multi fractured mosaics. My limbs were stretched to an infinite degree and my body constantly rearranged itself, shifting from form to form. 

 

The trance-like high I’d been in vanished and my fear and confusion and guilt and rage swarmed back in. My stomach, or whatever was left of it, fell somewhere to my nether regions as I accelerated rapidly. An incredible pressure began squeezing around my midsection as I went faster and faster, until I felt my face strip away and my body completely dissolved and this was stupid and I was scared and oh gods, this was the end and—

 

Images zipped past me, almost quicker than I could see. Most were tiny, hazy at the edges, and quickly dissipated. There were a couple that were larger, more solid, and firm. One showed an unfamiliar landscape glowing red, and it took me a second to realize that the ominous shade was from streams of lava and ore. Jagged black spikes jutted from the ground, and endless chasms littered the landscape. It didn’t resemble anywhere I’d seen on maps.

 

Another image replaced the hellish landscape. I surveyed my new found surroundings and was left breathless. Marble columns towered over me, with steady streams of lava lining the walls and casting a red tint over the enormous room. 

 

At the far end of the enormous room was an elevated platform of sorts, with a throne positioned on it and a silhouette stationed in the seat of power. They loomed over several figures cloaked in darkness. There were eight of them, spread out in diagonal arrangements, forming an arrow. All of them were bowing to the entity in the seat. 

 

Demons.

 

Before the horror of what I was seeing could settle in, the image vanished and another took its place. At a first glance, it looked to be the same room where the previous picture had taken place. There was a noticeable lack of sentient creatures, with both the eight subjects and their superior having vanished. The throne was left barren, but the absence of what I now know to be demons. 

 

It didn’t look as if anything was happening, but the image wasn’t being erased. The cease in rapid transitions allowed me to catch my breath, and also let the fear slink in. What if I was trapped in this weird stage forever? An incorporeal form, a  mix of physical flesh and demonic energy that rendered me a mere witness and unable to interact with my surroundings? I envisioned watching the world tick past me while I was helpless to interfere. After a couple of months of this, it would probably be enough to drive me insane.

 

The possibility of that future being invigorated me, and I struggled to escape. My body wasn’t reacting the way I wanted to, unwilling or incapable of heeding my commands, but if I just tried, maybe I could break free of this in-between state. I was hovering in midair, ruminating on my next step before a chill hit me; it started on the back of my neck before making its way down my arms and stiffening the rest of my body.

 

“What do we have here?” a sly voice uttered behind me. There was no way I should have been able to tell, but right away, I knew the owner of the voice was the same as the demon who sat on the throne. It was an absolute fact, with no chance of denying it or doubt. The demon who was strong enough to force other demons to their knees in absolute submission. My heart froze and I whirling around—whether to apologize or confront the creature, I didn’t know—but I was still. I could only stare at the likewise frozen image, all the while wondering how this was possible. I’d been certain that I was a simple observer watching in through a series of images that reflected the real world. I hadn’t given consideration to the fact that someone else might see me and access the same dimension, but if anyone could do it, it would be a demon. 

 

I tried to speak, but similar to the rest of my body, my lips felt like lead. I was completely at the mercy of this creature. As I struggled with that notion, the voice giggled.

 

“I’ll be watching your progress with great interest, Alex. If you escape with your sanity intact—or not, it doesn’t matter to me—I’ll find you and see if you’ve become useful.” 

 

What?

 

A pair of crimson red eyes flashed before me, and everything faded to black. 

When I opened my eyes again, I nearly sobbed. I finally had a proper body! One that was entirely mine and not one I was sneaking a ride on. Hopefully.

 

It still felt strange, but I chalked that up to somehow coming back to life. There were probably some bodily functions lost during the process, whatever it was. I couldn’t even begin to wrap my head around my resurrection, so I focused on what I would do with my second chance.

 

A wave of revulsion and disgust so potent it nearly knocked me off my feet rolled over me. How could I be so happy when everyone I knew—everyone I loved was dead? Even worse, I couldn’t do anything to prevent their fate. For all my planning and hesitance, it didn’t pan out. In the end, I’d been as useless as a strand of grass against the bandits and that was almost enough to break me.

 

I recalled what the demon said about me becoming useful, and I almost scoffed. I didn’t care anymore what ‘useful’ for a demon entailed. As long as it meant that I had a second chance, as long as it meant I could exact vengeance on the bandits, I will pay any price to anyone—even to a species that was unanimously viewed as ‘evil.’

 

If becoming evil is what it takes to avenge my loved ones, I’ll do whatever it takes and become whatever monster they need me to be.

 

A small part of me threw out the idea that I was being irrational, that I shouldn’t be hasty in declaring my allegiance to whatever creature was willing to help me out in my crusade. I said ‘fuck that’ to the voice. The rage coursing through me was as holy as magma, as potent as the fire that ravaged my home. I was going to find the fucking bandits, and I was going to take my time torturing them until they couldn’t be considered human anymore.

 

Is that what Amara would want?

 

The thought was accompanied by an equally powerful blast of grief that threatened to drown me. I knew that if I succumbed here, allowed myself to reminisce and think about the people I lost, I wouldn't be able to carry on. If I only focused on the rage and not the deed that formed that rage, I could maintain my goal and make sure the bandits paid no matter what the cost was. I couldn’t afford to lose myself to mourning; I was already a shell of who I used to be, driven by fury and nothing else. 

 

Alex was dead. He’d died along with his loved ones. I used his body as my vassal and that was it; Alex would never contemplate killing people, but that was the only thing keeping me going. 

 

It made me feel like crap, like I was betraying everything my loved ones believed in. Which was why I vowed to isolate them. To keep my memories locked away in a tiny box and banish that box to the deepest recesses of my mind. It wasn’t a healthy way to cope in the long term, but that was fine. I didn’t intend to survive after killing the bandits. 

 

They said they’re planning on going to the next village? I probably know the route better than they do. I’ll go through the shortcut through the forest.

 

Having formulated a plan, I was much more content. The panic that had been bubbling in the outskirts of my consciousness was subsiding, held at bay by the confidence in knowing what to do. Even so, there was something I couldn’t put my finger on—wait. Why was it so dark?

 

I was certain I was opening my eyes, but—actually, that was weird as well. It was almost like instead of just two, I was opening multiple eyes. But that’s impossible, right?

 

I attempted to get up but was instantly blocked by something. Growling, I prodded at the obstacle. It felt brittle and hard simultaneously, like I could bash through it but it could also withstand huge amounts of force. Lifting my hand, I discovered a curvature.

 

I moved backwards, only to barely travel a couple of inches before hitting another wall. Oh, shit.

 

After groping around for several seconds where I desperately denied the truth, it dawned on me: I was trapped.

 

I never thought of myself as claustrophobic but that was all I could think of right now. The walls felt like they were closing in. Even though I hadn’t had a lick of issue breathing before, it was the only thing in my mind right now.

 

I need to get out of here! I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe! Shit, shit, shit!

 

I flailed my limbs and a low crunch sounded in the cramped space. The dull pain upon hitting the walls was overshadowed by the gust of cold air that poured in through the hole.

 

Empowered by the burst of fresh air, I struggled through the remaining walls. These aren’t as tough as I thought they’d be. Breaking free the rest of the way, I collapsed onto the ground.

 

Panting heavily, I pushed myself to my feet. Except there was a problem. 

 

I didn’t have feet. And what I was using to push myself up weren’t hands either. Instead, I stared at long, thin appendages covered with a coat of hair. Glancing backwards, I saw white fragments dotted with red lying across the ground.

 

It’s an egg, I thought dimly. 

 

Ding!

 

You have been resurrected as a Gelatinous Cube!

Hello! ThreadofFatee here! This is my first story on ScribbleHub, and I thank you all for reading this first chapter of Evolution Cubed! I do have a fairly extensive backlog, so look forward to daily releases for the foreseeable future! Future chapters will be much shorter than this one, approximately 2k words. I may break this chapter up in the future, but for now, I hope you enjoy and have a wonderful time!

 

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