*original version*
Set your pulse racing in the mysterious island of Azkalar-Zar, where danger and mystery lurk around every corner. A race called Lycanthropes, have embarked on a crucial mission to replenish their species, snatching women from thei...
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Labyrinth
Beneath the glare of the mid-morning sun, a long, weathered bottle pokes out from the dark shale, glinting in the golden light. The fascinating object captures the attention of a small, curious boy as he runs happily on the beach.
“Mamma, look what I found.” He holds up the sea-weathered bottle as evidence, brown eyes widening with curiosity. After all, he’s pretending to be a pirate and has discovered treasure.
“Careful, Cody . . . let me see that,” his mother warns, suspicious of its contents.
It could have been tossed aside by a careless drunkard or broken, potentially cutting her little boy’s hands to pieces. The Spanish woman takes the battered bottle from her son and inspects the contents cautiously. There doesn’t appear to be any liquid inside. She shakes the bottle to check but doesn’t hear sloshing liquid, just the soft shuffle of something dry – maybe sand. It’s impossible to see what the scratched glass contains without breaking the wax seal around the cork.
Little Cody bounces impatiently on the balls of his feet, anxious to see what the bottle contains. “What’s inside, Mamma?”
“I’m not sure, sweetie. Give me a second; I’ll try pulling out the stopper,” she replies, her curiosity growing.
The wax seal has set hard over the years, but the young mother manages to peel away the obstruction with her nails. Unfortunately, the cork crumbles, but she uses her door key to dig it out. After clearing the obstruction, she sees the rolled parchment within and uses her nails to carefully slide it out without tearing it.
“You’ve found a treasure map! Read it, Mamma!” Cody squeals with impatience.
Cody’s mother chuckles and then uncurls the discoloured parchment to study the faded text.
“Here we go. It’s a little faded, but I’ll try,” she tells her excited child.
Her hazel eyes scan back and forth across the slanted handwriting, relieved it’s written in Spanish.
“My name is Carina Perez. If you can read this, please deliver it to the Perez family from Balaeter. To my beloved Papa, Mama, and Maria, I am safe. I am loved. And thanks to you, I remain strong,” the woman reads the opening message, then tenses, realising what this letter means.
