Welcome to Gaia! ::

There went a rumor around town. I didn’t believe it when I first heard it. There was an underground place, almost like a multi-level dungeon or prison hallway of sorts, in the northern regions of Red Wood Plains. It hadn’t been used in centuries, as told by the rusted iron and ancient statues, and it held untold treasures ready to be found. A group of explorers went in. Three months passed. They came back out. And all seemed to be bright and sunny until the explorers began showing odd signs of, well, being sick.

At first it was just the pale skin and bad cough. “It’s winter, they’ve just all come down with the cold,” many often said when the subject came up. Basic cold medicine, hot soup, and good rest was all people thought the explorers needed. Their symptoms only grew worse with time despite the best medicine the doctors later prescribed.

And then one vanished.

Another grew fins from his back.

A third sprouted horns and a tail.

The fourth was found buried alive.

Explorer number five was found one morning skinless, and without his internal organs. I mean all of them.

The sixth began to breath strange toxins.

The seventh. . .

No-one knows what happened to the seventh. He was the second one to go missing (we had found the first), and try as they did my parents and some friends never found him. His wife said that he had grown a single horn over the course of several days. The two thought nothing of it at first, even when the wings set in. The others were experiencing bodily changes, why shouldn’t he as well? Of course by the time the horn had finished growing, he’d changed completely.

Shortly after his disappearance, the others disappeared along with him.

I don’t believe it. Correction; I didn’t believe it. Even when young women and men, even children began disappearing week by week, I didn’t believe it. When weird fish-like creatures began swimming in the rivers off which we live, I didn’t believe it. When specters began murdering people in the night, I didn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe that rumor because it was the most preposterous thing I’d ever heard. How could any of that be true? Our elders and our scientists said it’s impossible for these things to exist. Religion damned them all to oblivion. How is it possible that all of this is happening? My mother said it was a simple explanation, one which even when she said it I didn’t buy it.

"There was an underground place, almost like a multi-level dungeon or prison hallway in the northern regions of Red Wood Plains. It hadn’t been used in centuries, as told by the rusted iron and ancient statues, and it held untold treasures ready to be found."

So, sitting here inside this wretched and foul hole of a holding cell was all the proof I needed to think otherwise. The place reeked of waste and blood, and the iron bars were well beyond rusted and caked with filth. I could smell the fear of my inmates, Agatha and Mirabelle. My clothes were dirty and torn from my struggles with the prison guards. My hair was tangled up and some of it had been ripped out of my head. My eyes were sleep deprived.

“I’m not gonna live, I’m not gonna live, I’m not gonna live. . .” Agatha continuously repeated. I could see Mirabelle's silhouette tense while Agatha rocked back and forth in the corner next to a conveniently placed rib cage and free spinal cord. I couldn’t blame Mirabelle; there were some days where I wanted to slap them both for their lack of hope. We’ll survive. That guy down the hall says no-one has ever died here. At least, no-one that hasn’t tried to escape.