The Guardian of Threshold (9 page)

“Run while you can!” said a tiny and skinny creature in a weak voice.

“There’s nobody here,” I replied. “And I can’t run in here.”

“He’s coming!” the creature said, shivering.

As soon as I heard those words, I felt a devastating dread, almost as if death itself was near.

“Who’s coming?” I asked.

“HELP!” said a three-foot-tall creature sobbing in his cage as the neighboring creature tried to console it.

I was determined to find a way to help these poor creatures.

I gathered all my strength and climbed out of the mud pit and onto a nearby dirt bank. I lay there, out of breath for a couple seconds, and then I remembered that I probably didn’t have much time left. I would have to hurry if I wanted to rescue anyone, including myself.

I bent down on the ground and started to look for anything that I could use to defend myself and let those poor creatures loose.

Mostly blinded by the fog, I moved my hands in front of me, skimming the ground for anything remotely useful. After an excruciating and frantic search, I felt something sharp and cold touch my fingers and pulled it closer. It seemed to be a long tool or weapon, like a spear. As for its use, I could only assume it was as a torture device, mainly because it had what seemed to be dried blood on its metal tip.

I picked up the device as I tried to figure out a way to use it to free the prisoners.

The chains clanged as I rammed the long spear against the cages’ locks several times.

After some effort, I was able to free three creatures. However, much to my surprise they didn’t try to leave their cages. They stood inside their cages.

It wasn’t until I heard the sound of someone or something approaching that I understood. I must have made too much noise. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

Next thing I knew, I was hit by a glowing red orb of energy and thrown violently against the furthest wall of the cave.

When I fell to the ground, I was still holding the upper half of the spear in my left hand. It must have split in two on impact.

It was a few seconds before I was able to get up.

“I warned you!” said the strange yet familiar voice in a tone that sent chills down my spine.

“I… I’m sorry. I just ended up here; I didn’t mean to,” I said, shivering and looking around for what hit me. “What is this place? And what am I doing here?” I managed to ask.

“You have many questions. But what makes you think that I will answer them?” the voice asked.

“How do you kn—”

“I can read your thoughts,” said the voice.

“Listen, I just want to find my mother—”

“Enough, I know what you want better than yourself,” said the voice.

After a short silence, he added, “You undead people never learn.”

“Please… sir,” I pleaded nervously. I urgently needed some answers.

“And what even makes you think your mother wants to see you?” said the voice, growing more upset.

His words had a profound effect on my mental state, and I tried my best to disguise my shock.

“You can’t hide anything from me. I know everything there is to know, even your most inner thoughts and emotions.”

“Who… are you?” I asked.

“It doesn’t matter who I am. All that matters is that you’re going to regret not heeding my warnings. You’ll pay for your trespassing.”

I was lost and didn’t know what to do next. If what the creature told me was true, all my fears would be freely accessible to him, and there was no hiding from that sort of thing.

“Do you have a name?” I ventured out of desperation.

“Doesn’t everything?”

“What is it? Your name, I mean,” I asked, trembling.

“I’m known as Phasma Val-Fraux, and I’m the Guardian of Threshold, but you undead have called me many things over the ages,” replied Phasma.

“Doesn’t Phasma mean ghos—” I started to ask, but I stopped abruptly, realizing that I might not like his answer.

“Yes, you’re right. I’m the sole guardian of the astral realm. In this realm, I’m all there is, no one is above me,” said Phasma, not wasting the slightest opportunity to make me even more terrified.

“What’s this place?” I managed to ask even as the hairs on my neck stood up and chills coursed through my body.

“You invaded my world, my realm, and you don’t even know?” asked Phasma, sounding intrigued.

“I don’t… I just read a book that told me what to do. I was just trying to find my…” I paused, “deceased mother.”

“She’s not here, this is my realm!” yelled Phasma.

“I’m truly sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you,” I said.

“Too late for that. Every time you venture into my realm, you bother me,” said Phasma. He then added, “This world is mine and mine alone. It belongs to me. I’m its guardian. I exist to prevent you undead from crossing into the Threshold,” said Phasma.

“What’s Threshold…?”

“Enough! You don’t have any business being here. You must know that every violation will be severely punished,” said Phasma, sounding much closer than before.

I looked up and saw a black shadowy figure moving just above the fog. It seemed very large, and yet it moved fairly fast.

Up to that point, I had no idea who I had been talking to. Had I seen him before, I doubt that I would have carried on a conversation with him.

Suddenly, without warning, I felt a great force push me back down into the mud pit. I suffocated as I was held under the mud. I struggled and tossed, trying desperately to free myself.

After a lot of fighting, I was finally able to move my head just above the mud line. As I caught my breath, I could see that the shadowy figure had returned to circle over me. Partially hidden by the dense fog, it zigzagged in and out of the fog so fast that I couldn’t see much of it except its large silhouette.

The dark shadowy figure charged me from the fog, grabbing my shoulders as it dragged me across the cave.

I was so terrified that I barely felt any pain until my arm hit a rock wall.

What I’d seen would forever haunt me. It was part animal, part monster, with red curly horns on its head and dark red skin covered by a black hazy silk garment. His body was covered with seemingly human bones, but the predominant part of his body was his wide bat-like wings.

Phasma Val-Fraux stood there pushing me hard against the rocks while my shoulders seared in pain with his touch.

I let out a painful scream and my knees lost the strength to hold me up. Phasma quickly dragged me up and then dropped me a good four feet onto the damp ground.

When I fell, I felt my wrist burn. I lay on the floor, suffering as I never had before. Then I looked up, only to see Phasma charging at me yet again.

I didn’t have much time to react, but somehow I managed to roll to my left side as quickly as I could just when he was about to hit me, forcing him to narrowly miss me.

Figuring that I had only a few seconds before Phasma recovered and charged at me once more, I got up as fast as I could and took off running while being careful to avoid the mud pits.

I had no idea where I was going. The cave was huge and full of dead ends, twists, and turns. I just kept pushing on as fast as I could. I ran for what seemed like ages, but it couldn’t possibly have been more than five minutes.

I allowed myself a quick look back to see if Phasma was still behind me. The second I turned my head back, I became distracted and tripped on a huge rock protruding from the ground.

I fell helplessly to the ground. I was unable to contain a sharp scream of pain.

The pain was most intense at first, and then it seemed to quickly subside. After a few seconds, all that remained was the memory of the pain. It was as if the pain was simply a reflection of the physical pain, a mere fraction of what pain normally felt like. Yet the pain in my shoulder persisted; it was like the pain caused by Phasma lingered.

I tried to get up and run, but I couldn’t even stand, let alone run.

I could feel Phasma approaching. It wasn’t long before I heard his evil laughter in the distance as I sat on the floor, helplessly looking for a corner to hide in.

As I crawled toward a dark corner, I felt the air moving around me as Phasma landed just a few yards from me.

As he slowly made his way toward me, grinning with his wings still outstretched—which only made him seem bigger and more menacing—I saw his features in greater detail, from his big, sharp, and terrifying fangs to his long and honed claws.

As his demonic face got closer to mine, I froze. There wasn’t much I could do; I was once again facing imminent death.

I closed my eyes as I waited in agony for my last few seconds to slowly tick away.

Even through my closed eyes, I could sense his face near mine. I could even smell his rotten breath. Then I felt a strong wind as Phasma flapped his wings.

A few seconds passed, so I opened my eyes to see what was happening, only to regret it as I saw Phasma lift up his claws in preparation for the potentially fatal strike as though he wanted me to see my demise.

I closed my eyes quickly so I wouldn’t see what would happen next, but then suddenly it felt like the ground opened up, as if the floor tiles were being removed one by one from right under my feet.

When I opened my eyes again to see if it was death welcoming me, I saw that I was falling through a seemingly endless black tunnel, plagued by a darkness not even Phasma seemed willing to brave.

Out of the blue, the ground below filled my field of vision at once.

Not knowing what else to do, I let out a scream of madness or desperation… I didn’t know which.

Just when I was about to hit the ground, I felt myself bouncing on my bed as though I’d fallen from a tremendous height.

The air suddenly thickened, and my breathing slowly became more labored and physical. The dense grey fog that had filled the air just seconds before turned into a light brown haze before disappearing completely.

That’s when I felt sweat starting to form on my forehead. I opened my eyes and saw that I was back in my physical body, much to my surprise and relief.

CHAPTER SIX

THE SKY IS THE LIMIT

W
hen I woke up, I remembered that today marked ten years since my mother passed away. I tried telling myself that my experience had just been a dream, yet the pain I felt told me otherwise; my arms hurt to the touch, and my shoulder felt sore, along with my toes, which ached like never before.

I wasn’t sure of anything anymore, especially considering how real the whole experience had seemed—but everything happened just like the book said it would. I wondered what the chances were of it all being a mere coincidence.

I was still debating if it had been a dream or not when I remembered seeing a small dusty model airplane on the top of my bookshelf while floating above it. Try as I might, I couldn’t see it from any other angle. If I found that model plane, there was a good chance the whole experience was real.

I grabbed the first chair I saw and climbed. Even standing on top of the chair, I couldn’t see anything so I fumbled around a bit with my hand. That was when I felt my fingers touch something small. I pinched with my index and middle finger and brought it into my reach. It was the same model airplane—God, I must have been six years old when I got it. So it really
had
happened; it wasn’t a dream after all.

In retrospect, I’d had a great time flying around in my room—the sense of freedom and peace was nothing like I’d ever experienced before, not even flying in an airplane gave me such a rush. To be honest, I didn’t think anything in this world could ever surpass that kind of exhilaration.

What about that creature?
I thought.

What did he say his name was?
I tried hard to remember; I seemed to be forgetting the details of the event as the seconds ticked away.

I concentrated until I finally remembered… his name was Phasma Val-Fraux.

I quickly searched for a piece of paper so I could write his name down. The only thing I was certain about was that he stood between my mother and me.

I was still in a daze when the alarm clock announced that it was 7:30 a.m. I had to hurry if I wanted to make my flight test.

I quickly made my way downstairs, doing my best to avoid the photographs on the wall. Much to my surprise, I found my dad already up and waiting to take me to Hanscom Field Airport.

“Good morning, son, big day today,” he said, smiling and taking a sip of his morning coffee.

“Morning, Dad. Hopefully, I’ll find the runway this time,” I said.

“Don’t worry, you’ll do fine. I’ve already checked the weather, and it’s gorgeous out… cold but absolutely gorgeous,” he said enthusiastically.

“Dad, do you think they will let me take the test today?” I asked.

“That’s up to the FAA, but I certainly hope so,” he said.

The FAA was investigating not only me, but my instructor as well. As a result, I was only going to find out if I was allowed to retake my flight test when I got there.

I grabbed a travel coffee mug and filled it with black coffee, followed by three spoons of sugar. I wanted to make damn sure I was awake for my 8:00 a.m. test.

As we rode there, I mentally went through the flying procedures. I had even memorized various checklists.

After a brief and quiet ride, we arrived a few minutes early.

“Good morning, Mark,” said Gilles as soon as I entered the building.

“Morning, what’s the news?” I asked.

“See that guy over there getting coffee? That’s Steve, he’s with the FAA, and he will be accompanying you today in your flight,” said Gilles.

I was happy for being allowed to retake my flight test, but I was also a bit confused because my flight test was supposed to be a solo flight.

“Mark, I know this is a bit unorthodox. Unfortunately, that was the only way the FAA would allow you to retake your test. Just go with flow.”

“Oh, okay,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

“Steve, allow me to introduce you to Mark Anthony,” Gilles said as Steve approached with a hot cup of coffee in hand.

“Nice to finally meet you,” Steve said.