It's for character development, I promi-

Later, during a battle with some random creature, Atlas decided to put his theory to the test. He ran at the creature headfirst with a warlike yell.

But the creature hit him with one of its…tentacles? paws?...and sent him flying nearly a mile away.

“No! The idiot!” Jen gritted her teeth only to keep from crying out in concern. “He's going to be fine, right? Tell me he will be fine Sangster.”

“I can't. That was an awful hit. We need to go find him.”

“Clay! Tom! Ottie!” Jen called out. They immediately stopped and turned to her. “We have to go get Atlas!”

“What do you mean?” Tom yelled back over the squeals of the creature.

“He's that way!” Jen pointed to the direction he had flown and they all began to run that way, abandoning the creature, who very quickly became lonely.

They sped through the trees (I think that's what they were). While they were running, they got many scraps and scratches from rocks or branches. Once, Jen fell face forward, tearing up her whole face and putting a bad gash in her leg.

But at last they came to the wreckage of where Atlas landed. Branches were broken everywhere and Atlas was on the ground, unconscious. Two forms were crouched text to him.

“Hey!” Jen called. “What are you doing?”

The two figures looked up. It was the twins.

“You again,” Jen grimaced.

“Us again.” They said in unison.

“Your fellow here is pretty bad off.” The twin with longer hair said.

“What in the world happened to him.” The twin with shorter hair questioned.

“There was a monster that tried to eat us.” Ottie replied with dull eyes.

“What!!” The first twin cried. “You disturbed Betty??”

“Well,” number two said factually. “It's her own fault. She's not supposed to eat people.”

Number one crossed his arms and huffed. But Jen rushed to Atlas’ side.

“Sangster, come on, take a look at him.”

Sangster reluctantly came and scanned Atlas for anything fatal.

“He's broken his arm, half his ribs, and I think he has a fractured back…so it seems…” Sangster whispered.

“What?”

“Jen,” Clay walked over to her with hip lips tightened awkwardly. “He might be alright. He's breathing.”

Jen turned to Atlas. “You and your stupid God complex." She folded her arms over her knees.

“Let's get him and ourselves back to base. You two,” he turned to the twins. “Take care of Betty. Don't let her out.”

One began to speak. “Well, I don't know–” Two jabbed him in the ribs

“We will.” They both said and saluted loosely.

Sangster gathered the others nearby and held Atlas' wrist. Then, they vanished back to their base.

Jen stood with crossed arms and watched over Sangster as he was trying to bandage Atlas where he could.

After there was nothing else to be done, the rest of them cleaned themselves up, except for Jen. Jen embraced Sangster and buried her face in his shoulder.

“Thank you.” She murmured. Then she walked to Atlas and watched him.

They all said goodnight, Clay giving Jen a hug. But Sangster tarried.

“You need to get that taken care of.” Sangster reached for a cloth to clean Jen's leg. But she stepped back.

“No,” She said firmly. “I'm going to wait.”

“You'll pass out if you wait too long.”

“Then I guess I'm going to be unconscious pretty soon.” Jen turned away.

“You can do it yourself while you wait. Just sit down, please.” Sangster pleaded. She complied and took the cloth in her hand. But she didn't do anything with it.

“Goodnight. Sleep, if you can. I'll be back shortly.” Sangster patted Jen's shoulder consolingly then returned to his room.

Jen sat next to Atlas, using the cloth not to clean her blood, but to wipe away the few smears of red Sangster had left on Atlas’ face. The light became dim and it soon was very dark.

“When will you stop being…like that?” Jen frowned. “I always thought I was the stupid one. But you've managed to be worse, but some stroke of…bad luck I guess.”

Atlas’ breath came in steady waves, and his face was peaceful.

“I bet you don't even know what happened. How can you, sitting there all blissfully?” Jen's head began to swim a little. “Ooh, maybe I do need to stop this blood…But first, I have to talk about how you can STOP acting like you have a god complex!” Jen frowned intently.

Out of nowhere, a hoarse voice called out

“It really isn't that complex." It was Atlas.

“You're awake, you're alive?" Jen stared at him in disbelief.

“Yes. Barely.”

Jen laughed a little, smiling widely. Atlas sat up with a grunt and a sharp inhale.

“Woah, woah, wait. You shouldn't be sitting up.”

“Why?” Atlas tilted his head curiously.

“Sangster said you had a fractured back and…I don't remember but you broke at least seven bones..”

“Well, I didn't know anything of the sort. And he isn't a doctor, pshh.” Atlas waved his hand dismissively “And, as I said, I have…insane powers. I guess I'll add super healing to the list.” He made a fake checkmark in the air, then furrowed his brow. “Um, how'd that happen…and that?” He gestured to her bloodied leg, then her scratched up face

“Oh…when we were running a mile, to find you, I fell.”

Atlas put his head in his hands. When he lifted it, he took the cloth from Jen's hand and began to clean her wound.

“You're right…” Atlas shrugged. “I should stop being stupid.”

Jen almost spoke, but she couldn't think of what to say. So she sat, letting Atlas clean her wound. After a bit, he stood up stiffly and got another cloth and a bandage from the bathroom. As he returned, Sangster was trailing behind him, trying to convince him to lie down.

“Can't. I'm tending to the wounded.” Atlas shrugged, then winced in pain.

Sangster stopped.

“Right,” He said, glancing at Jen. “Sorry I couldn't help you with that.”

Jen furrowed her brow at Sangster, on the brink of telling him to stay as he walked out of the room.

“Here,” Atlas said. “I know everyone says this, but this will sting a bit.”

When Senka sat up, Veild handed her the piece of bread.

“Are you sure I can have that much?” She asked with wide, worried, eyes.

“Yes, love.” Veild smiled. “I already ate.”

“Thank you!” Senka took the bread and began to nibble on it, trying to make it last. When she was just over halfway through, Veild's stomach growled so loud you might have thought it was a bear. Senka looked up at him for a moment, her mouth dropping slowly open, then she turned her head down and scooted back to lean against a nearby tree.

“Love…” Veild smiled a little with worry. He walked over to her and sat, his eyes begging for her glance.

“You must eat.” Senka tried to steady her voice, tears falling down her cheeks, despite her best efforts against them. Veild lifted his hand and tenderly wiped the dirty teardrops away, leaving cleaner slivers of skin behind.

“It is only tonight, or today, whichever it is.” Veild's eyes softened. “We'll both eat hearty meat tomorrow.”

“Even if we could find meat here, we couldn't dare eat it.”

“We must leave tomorrow.” Veild smiled widely, speaking gently. “Or we both may go mad.”

Senka looked up at him with worry. He quickly tried to console her frantic aching.

“But we won't! Because we are leaving this forsaken place.”

“I am sorry,” Senka leaned her head on Veild's chest. “I should never have even spoken of this...this nightmare”

“We're safer here than you realize. It is only bodily aches that we must worry of.”

“And the constant fear of shadow.”

“What has happened?” The commander gazed, wide eyed at his friend

“Do not come nearer!” Ofir stumbled away from his friend like a drunken man after a fight.

“My lord, I must help!” the commander stepped towards Ofir.

“You cannot! I have lost control.” Ofir seethed. “They have done their worst.”

“But, my lord, we have rescued the family! Each and every one of them!”

“No! No, it cannot be. Make sure of who they are. You must not allow them within the walls if they are changelings.”

“Changelings? They have changelings at their beck and call?”

“I have seen them before.” Tears fell down Ofir’s cheeks. Gold trailed up his arms and neck. The floor was slowly being covered in a sheet of fiery gold. The commander stepped back as it reached for his feet.

“Go!” Ofir cried. The commander rushed out of the room to do his lord's will.

Ofir sank, and knelt on the floor for some time. Eventually rising and standing by the fireplace with his back to the door, trying to make the gold recede. At last, he did. But there was a little more gold twisting on his hands than before. And memories stained his heart.

The commander broke into the room after a long while, blood pouring from his side and his face and clothes dirty. With sweat on his brow, breathing heavy, and choking back a sob, he cried out to Ofir.

“You were right! Changelings, all of them!” The commander bowed his head in shame.

Ofir’s face twitched in anger and anguish. But he swallowed it when he felt himself slipping out of his own fingers.

“So they are gone?” The commander brokenly questioned "Is it too late?”

“We cannot save them now.” Ofir hoarsely whispered. "The one above us will handle their fates.” He gritted his teeth and tried with all his might to stop a golden tear falling down his face. “But it takes everything in me to stop myself from riding out, at the smallest chance they are alive.”

“I would do the same.” The commander nodded sorrowfully. “But your people need you, now more than ever.”

“I know.” Ofir whispered and unclenched his jaw, letting his arms fall limp.

“They understand your duty. We must protect who we have left…For love?”

Ofir looked up at the commander with shining wet eyes.

“Is this what love has brought me to? These hands, this fate?” His face trembled in agony.

The commander closed his eyes and swallowed hard. “Yes,”

“Why?”

“Because, though you do not realize, your torment has brought good for us, your people. I would release you from the pain if I could, but since you must bear it, I am thankful that it has helped us in our darkest days.”

“Have I not only wrought pain and destruction?” Ofir clenched his fists near his face in confusion. “I do not understand!”

“You may not for a while. But joy will come.”

Ofir looked into his friend's eyes with deep suffering and a look of betrayal.

He heavily leaned his elbows on the mantle of the fireplace then put his head in his hands. Gold quickly began to leak onto his hair and then his face.

He was minding his own business, skinning a rabbit, when all of a sudden a thorn pricked him as he reached for his satchel. Blood seeped from the wound and he hissed in annoyance at the thorn bush. He reached for a bandage, but before he did, something caught his eye. The blood from his hand was slipping down, into the air, twisting into a scarlet thread, and floating off to the south. His eyes grew wide, but he gently got his satchel and followed it. After a time, his wound stopped bleeding. The string stayed for a while, but soon he came to the end of it. He frowned.

As he thought about what had happened, he continued to travel to the south. He found berries and such but very little real sustenance. He almost diverted to the easy, but stopped himself. He had thought of something.

He took out his knife and pricked his figure, causing blood to flow. The blood again turned into thread leading south west this time, and he followed it. It wrapped halfway around his hand and nearly pulled him along. When that string had ended, he walked for a little bit then stopped. It was nearly nightfall.

He made a small camp but didn't get much rest. He fought off a few monsters well, but most didn't come near him. They had heard of his skill and did not want to be killed by his whip.

Just before the sun came up, a skeleton decided to try its luck with Colburn. It failed, but just before Colburn killed it, he let it shoot him, just in the arm. Then he beheaded it swiftly.

Coburn grunted from pain, but shook it off. He left the arrow in his arm for a time, following the string of blood. But when the blood became sparse, he ripped the arrow out with a yell of pain. He sank to his knees for only a moment, then quickly began to follow the strand. It led him up a cliff, up, up, up. His head swam, his eyelids grew heavy. But at last, he reached the top of the cliff. He looked down and saw a man, collecting some rocks from the stream near the cliff side. The red string twisted loosely around him. His face was full of confusion.

“You?” Colburn called. Osage looked up and his eyes grew wide when he saw him.

“You are my soul bound?” Osage called. “I should've known. What have you been doing to yourself? You've had a painful few days.”

“I was trying to find my soul bound. Now I wish I had left it alone.”

“Its not so bad! We don't even have to stay together. You may do as you wish.”

“Thank you! I will.” Colburn grimaced. “I've had enough of these games. Whoever put us here, and I think we both know who it was, has played with us enough. You know we aren't his chess pieces.”

“We aren't. But we're stuck. We can pull through to the end, then stop him when he tries it again.”

“No.”

“What do you mean?”

“I'm going to stop him now. I'm sorry. Goodbye.”

Osage called out for Colburn to stop, but he had flung himself from the cliff. The last thing he saw was the horror on Osage's face.

–

Colburn sat up straight. The cold ground was beneath him, the fire burned low, barely ashes. The others were still asleep. Osage was leaning against a tree, his face twitching from apparently a nightmare.