As a multiethnic kid, Keon Wesley has always had to straddle two worlds. He just never expected that metaphor to become a literal reality.
Ever since his dad left five weeks ago, he's struggled to adjust to life in a single parent household. When a...
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Keon stared at the spot where Avana had been but a breath before. The dust had barely settled over the drag marks raking the surface of the ground when her shield sent fresh plumes blooming into the air. She hadn't even had a chance to react. A pang of guilt tugged at his chest. His thoughts towards her over the last few hours hadn't been pleasant. Heck, part of him—deep down—may have even wished her some kind of misfortune. But not like this.
"Avanaaa!"
Zahara grabbed Keon's hand and stuffed something between his sweaty fingers.
"They get close, you swing this at them, yeah?!"
She ran to fill the gap, rolling over Avana's fallen shield as she grabbed it. Keon looked down at a yellowed, origami paper sword; the fibres of the ancient parchment tickling his fingertips. Columns of cursive script wound their away around the folded edges of the blade. He could've sworn he'd seen it before; the same phrase repeated over and over again. Turning it round, he ran his fingers tenderly over the embossed words.
Dwell in his shelter.
Live under his shadow.
Your refuge and fortress.
Your King whom you trust.
He felt his grip tighten around the hilt. It sounded like something his dad would recite. Did he carry one like this? Was that why the words seemed so familiar? Though his ankle twinged, he took a bold stance; his weight shifting restlessly from foot to foot. Then the voices came. At once, all other sounds seemed to withdraw; the clamour of battle becoming a distant hum as though plunged underwater.
"Come on then!" he yelled, taunting with the point of the blade.
A bright fog suddenly closed in around him.
"He comes to us."
"Most prodigious."
"He thinks himself wise...and brave."
"He's reckless."
"Or curious."
"We esteem curiosity."
"And temerity."
"You seek answers."
The last voice boomed with a force that almost knocked him off his feet. The lights pulsed around him in unison; each one accompanied by the whoosh of ignited flames. He quickly regained his footing.
"The Scarred Warrior doesn't give answers. Full of riddles he is."
