PROLOGUE:
There was once a time when Jamaa was green. When it had seasons. When it wasn't corrupted. When it was safe. When it was peaceful.
That time was over. Ever since the group of animals named Gofnak had taken over, the land had been launched into eternal winter, and phantoms roamed freely. The alphas were defeated--locked away in cells at the Gofnak headquarters. Memberships were taken away from the non-Gofnak animals, leaving nearly everyone with a plain name tag to signal their lowly status, and the Gofnak with shining badges to demonstrate their importance and power.
Members of the Gofnak now bent Jamaa's people to their own desires. Many had camps, where they rounded up orphans to do work--and the work wasn't pleasant. The Gofnak believed that there was a gold mine beneath the hundreds of pounds of snow, and forced orphans to spend days digging through the freezing, bottomless flakes, not allowing them any rest or relief. Half the orphans died of the pure cold and harshness of the work, and the other half was about to as well.
And here our story begins--at one of these camps.
CHAPTER 1
The orphans snoozed. They curled themselves up, inching as close as they could to the tiny oil lamps by their beanbags. The previous day had been especially hard, and the two hours of rest they were allowed had been greatly appreciated.
"GET UP YOU LAZY PEOPLE!" The head of the camp, Countess Frozenivy shrieked. She was a dark purple and white otter, and could always be seen wearing the traditional outfit of the Gofnak: dark sunglasses, a black spiked collar, and white leafy anklets. Her pink badge gleamed in the morning light, it's shine bouncing off of the walls of the camp's sleeping quarters.
Groaning, the four orphans of the camp sat up, rubbing their eyes wearily.
"YOU HAVE WORK TO DO!" Countess yelled, kicking Flora's beanbag until she woke up. "GET OUT THERE AND START SHOVELING!!!"
The orphans headed outside into the freezing day. Even though it was in the middle of summer, the chilly, bitter wind whipped at their faces, and their paws stung as they stepped into the frigid snow. There was so much snow that they had to swim through it, often having their heads go under the layers and layers of the frosty flakes, as they desperately tried to get their heads above the snow banks again.
The four of them were broken up into working pairs--Mythical and Sparkle would dig in the upper part of the camp where the ice cave was, and Flora and Eternal would dig in the lower corner, where the frozen pond was.
"It's so cold out here," Mythical said, shivering. She and Sparkle made their way towards their working area.
"I know..." Sparkle replied, her face flushed from the icy winds.
"YOU BETTER NOT BE COMPLAINING!" Countess screamed from inside the camp. The owners of the camp got to spend the days in luxury--with plentiful delicious food and surrounded by crackling fires.
"We're not complaining!" Mythical called back, her teeth chattering as she spoke. She picked up one of the shovels leaning against a tree and began digging.
The problem was--every night it snowed again, covering up that day's work. The orphans had no idea how they would ever find the gold that the Gofnak was looking for if the snow kept coming down.
Sparkle picked up the other shovel and dug into the frosty layers. Behind her, a growling came from the ice cave. She had grown used to the occasional rumble of the cave, but every time her heart still skipped a beat. What was in the cave, making all that noise? All she knew was that the creature who lived in the cave had two, big yellow eyes that glowed in the dancing shadows.
CHAPTER 2
The two friends dug and dug, their faces flushed from the stinging winds and their paws and toes numb with cold. The day was still new, and they knew that they still had a generous amount of work to do before the sun set and they could rest.
"It's so cold out here... when will the day be over?" Sparkle asked, her shovel falling from her numb flippers.
"Keep digging," Mythical replied, shivering. She didn't want to answer Sparkle's question in fear that it would lower both of their spirits. They had around 12 more hours of work to do, but she didn't tell Sparkle that.
Suddenly, there was a loud clunk noise that came from Sparkle's shovel.
Sparkle's eyes grew wide. "I think I found something!" she shrieked, ferociously digging to uncover the item that her shovel had found.
Mythical gasped, and bounded over to where Sparkle stood, sinking into the bottomless snow every few moments.
Sparkle kept digging, her flippers growing red with the burn of the hard metal shovel digging into her skin. But she kept going.
Finally, after around 10 more minutes of digging, a brown wooden chest could be seen under the snow. Mythical knelt down and began to scoop away the snow around the chest with her paws. It stung painfully, but she did it anyway, her astonishment numbing the pain.
When the chest was uncovered, they heaved it out of the snow, panting.
"It's a treasure box!" Sparkle cried, a wide grin stretched across her face.
"What's inside??!?!" Mythical asked, not sure she could wait a moment longer.
With trembling hands, Sparkle unlatched the box and peered inside. A gold light danced across her face from whatever was inside the chest.
"It's GOLD!" Sparkle shrieked, scooping up a handful of shimmering, golden flakes from the chest.
"No way!" Mythical yelled back, looking inside the chest as well. "The Gofnak were right! There IS gold under all this snow!"
"WHAT'S GOING ON OUT THERE?" Countess asked from inside the building. "I'M COMING OUT TO MAKE SURE YOU'RE WORKING, YOU LITTLE BRATS!"
"We can finally present her with the gold!" Sparkle said happily.
"No!" Mythical replied. "We can't let them get the gold. They will know that the rumors of gold being under the snow are true, and they will make us work double to find all of the gold. It will never end."
"We have nowhere to hide it!" Sparkle said.
Countess's footsteps could be heard from inside the camp.
Mythical glanced at the cave next to them. "We can both go in there with the treasure," she whispered.
"No, I am NOT going!" Sparkle protested. "That monster lives in there!"
"Trust me, Sparkle. We have to do this," Mythical said, and began dragging the chest into the cave.
Reluctantly, Sparkle helped push the chest into the dark cave.
They found a nook to the right of the cave entrance where they could hide the chest without it being seen from the outside.
"Now we can pretend we were-" Mythical began.
But Countess was already out the door of the camp building surveying their empty digging station.
"WHERE DID YOU LITTLE BRATS GO?!" She yelled, scampering delicately across the snow banks in search of them.
"Quickly!" Mythical whispered, tugging Sparkle towards another nook in the cave. "In here!"
They huddled in the space, not daring to breath. Countess peered towards the cave, trying to make out any forms in the darkness. But the treasure chest and the two orphans were hidden too well to be seen.
After a few minutes of searching their digging site, Countess turned to search the other areas of the camp.
The two of them crouched in the darkness, still too afraid to move.
CHAPTER 3
After they were sure that Countess had gone, and that they could actually breath without fear of being found by her, they stood from their crouch in the shadows and surveyed the cave.
"D-do you think that the monster is in here?" Sparkle asked, her voice shaky.
"I'm not sure," Mythical answered, her own belly churning with fear. Was the monster with the huge yellow eyes in here? Was it watching them at this very moment?
As if in reply, a shadow flickered on the cave wall. But it was not a gruesome beast's shadow, but one of an animal, similar to Mythical and Sparkle. The shadow of a fox.
"Who are you?" Mythical asked, with as much courage as she could muster.
"Count," a deep, male voice echoed through the cave. "Count Fieryclaw."
A flame from a nearby fire pit lit up the cave, and the two of them saw a fox seated on the cave floor a few meters away from them.
"Who are you?" Count asked, in a suspicious voice. He held a small dagger, with a large, sparkling topaz embedded in it's hilt.
"I am Mythical, and this is Sparkle. We are from the Gofnak camp outside this cave. Sparkle and I were..." Mythical trailed off, when she noticed Count's shining brown badge. "Are you Gofnak?!" she shrieked, taking a step back. "Only the Gofnak leaders got to keep their badges when they took over!"
"Me? Gofnak?" Count laughed bitterly and spat on the ground. "No. Why I have my badge is none of your business."
Mythical raised an eyebrow at him.
"As little as I trust you," Count said, giving them a deathly look. "You look cold, and I can't let you just stand there and freeze to death. Come by the fire."
The fire behind him crackled again, and Mythical couldn't resist the warm, flickering flames.
She tugged on Sparkle's flipper, and dragged her towards the fire pit. Count followed them, keeping a tight hold of his topaz dagger.
They all huddled around the flames, Mythical rubbing her numb paws together until she could actually feel them again. And as the feeling came back into her hands, her nerves and sense kicked in as well. How did she know she could trust this Count? He claimed he wasn't Gofnak, but what else was he, if he had a badge?
CHAPTER 4
"What business do you have in this cave?" Count asked, light from the flames giving his face an ominous look.
"We..." Mythical wasn't sure whether or not to tell him about the gold. He had a badge, making her believe that he was Gofnak, so if he knew that gold had been found... would he just tell the other Gofnak members and would they make the orphans work harder?
"Speak!" Count ordered, his voice echoing around the cave. "And don't give me any nonsense. I'll use this dagger if I have to," he said, a bit more quietly. His paw rested on the hilt of his topaz dagger.
"We work at a Gofnak camp," Sparkle said, surprising Mythical with her boldness. Normally Mythical was the brave one, not poor, cowardly Sparkle. "And we were just digging in the snow, like we normally do, and we found a chest of gold."
Count's eyes grew dark. "This gold you speak of... tell me more about it."
Mythical's heart pounded. "There's not much to tell. It's gold." she shot back, shocking herself at how stupid she was being. What are you doing, Mythical? she yelled at herself in her mind. Look at you--angering a possible Gofnak leader with a weapon!
Count gave her a withering look. "You shall not speak to me that way, Mythical," he said angrily. "The reason I am so interested in this gold of yours, is that I seek to destroy Jamaa with it."
"What!!?!?" Mythical and Sparkle shrieked at the same time. "Destroy Jamaa? Are you insane?"
"I must be," Count said. For the first time, Mythical heard a hint of fear in his voice. "But it is not my own idea. It is one created by none other than Mira herself."
"Mira?" Mythical asked, incredulous. "But Mira is dead!"
"She spoke to me in a dream I had a few nights ago," Count said, gazing into the fiery flames.
"What did she say to you?" Sparkle questioned, leaning in towards the fire in interest.
COUNT'S DREAM
I woke in my dream at the center of a petunia bed. I had never seen flowers before--all beautiful forms of nature had been banished from the world of Jamaa, from flowers to cherry blossom trees. But around me, I saw trees of bursting pink blossoms, white and blue flowers, indigo mushrooms and lush, green shrubs beside thin, twirling vines. It was as though I were stepping into a past Jamaa--one without all the horrors and sadness that existed now.
I stepped out of the petunia bed, careful not to step on any of the beautiful petals or crumple any of the young buds. After glancing around the space I was in with much awe, I noticed a tunnel underground leading to another room. I scurried towards it, and burrowed through the tunnel until I reached the room.
The room was like a greenhouse, with it's thick, fluffy shrubs, bright yellow daffodils, and purple flowers. I reached out to touch one of the delicate white petals of a dahlia. It felt velvety in my paw, and I caressed the thin veins of it's leaves, loving how it playfully tickled my fur as a soft wind brushed by.
Once I had admired each and every flower in the beds of plants, I realized that there was yet another tunnel leading to a different room. I also noticed that there was a pathway of daisies laid out on the floor of the mud-covered tunnel, so I wouldn't have to get my paws dirty. I carefully stepped onto each of the daisies, enjoying the lovely feeling of the fuzzy centers of the daises touching my paws.
When I entered the next room, I saw that yet another bed of petunias was at the center of the room. A vine wrapped around one of the walls was connecting blue and white daisies together to form a beautiful piece of art, and next to it was a pot of full, bright roses in what seemed like thousands of colors. But what caught my eye the most was the group of butterflies sipping nectar from some flowers on the wall. Such delicate, beautiful creatures, that I had the misfortune of never seeing before in my life--thanks to those horrid Gofnak leaders and their ridiculous banishing of all forms of nature that didn't have the strength to hold a shovel to dig for gold.
Heading down another tunnel, I entered the largest space of the three I had seen so far. In a corner, a grove of cherry blossom trees and lush, green-leaved evergreens hugged the wall, their branches swaying slightly with every gentle gust of wind. Behind me were two lampposts, each one with blossoming pink flowers embedded along the twisting green plant winding itself around the lamppost. These lamps were so unlike the gloomy cement lampposts stationed like prison guards every ten feet on the deserted and dark streets of Jamaa Township. But in the center of the space was a towering ice statue of the blue heron, Mira. I had seen Mira depicted in banners and paintings briefly when I was a child, but any piece of art in Jamaa had long since been destroyed when the Gofnak took over. Her beauty was so much greater than even the best and most skilled artists would have ever been able to capture with simple paints and brushes.
"M-Mira?" I asked, my voice trembling.
I hadn't expected a response--after all, the great heron was trapped in ice. But I heard a low, soothing voice emit from Mira's beak.
"You are a caring, kind and loving fox," she told me. I personally didn't think I was anywhere near "loving", but I listened anyway.
"It breaks my heart to bind you to this great and dangerous task. But it must be executed by someone with the deepest of hearts and the kindest of souls," Mira continued. I had no idea what she was talking about. What was this "task" she spoke of? How was it dangerous?
"You must seek to destroy the glimmering beauty, to take in the helpless, and to help those who may not help themselves," the heron said, her voice smooth. I wished she would quit speaking with those nowhere-near-understandable sentences.
"Mira, I don't understand," I said. "What are you asking me to do?"
"To destroy Jamaa, my young Count. But remember--your heart is what really leads you, not anybody or anything else. Whatever you feel is right must be done."
CHAPTER 5
"How do you know you weren't just making it all up in your head?" Mythical asked, when Count was done retelling his dream.
"You know how in a dream, you don't always do things the way you'd do them in real life? How you don't know that it's a dream, and it all seems real? And how completely weird things happen that you can't quite explain? Well I didn't feel any of those things--I felt simply like I was waking up like I would on any day, except not in a place I had expected to be," Count replied.
Mythical still didn't believe him, and from her face, she could tell that Sparkle didn't either.
"So you're saying that just because Mira spoke to you in a dream that you had, you're going to try to destroy Jamaa?" Sparkle asked dubiously.
Count's set jaw and stern face vanished and his cheeks turned pink. "Yes," he replied, realizing that it did sound pretty ridiculous.
"And besides," Sparkle continued. "Mira is dead. She couldn't have spoken to you--dream or otherwise."
Count's cheeks turned an even more violent shade of red. "I can prove it, though," he said softly.
"You can?" Mythical asked, incredulous.
"Yes, I can," Count said, pulling a small flower petal from his pocket. I grabbed this just as the vision of the garden was blurring before my eyes and as I was beginning to wake up." He held the petal closer to the bright flames of the fire so Mythical and Sparkle could see it.
"Is that from one of the petunia beds you told us about from your dream?" Mythical wondered, her eyes bright with disbelief. She had never seen a flower, nor any form of nature besides the animals of Jamaa and the leaf-bare trees scattered around the snow-covered land.
"Indeed, it is," Count answered, rubbing the velvety surface of the purple flower petal in his paw. He closed his eyes. "Sometimes when I touch the petal I am certain I can hear Mira's voice speaking to me. Murmuring something I can't quite understand."
Mythical gaped in awe at the petal that Count held in his paw, but Sparkle still looked doubtful.
"How do we know that this guy isn't a total madman?" Sparkle asked, eyeing Count suspiciously. "Look at him--he thinks he hears the dead spirit of Mira whenever he touches that petal! How crazy is that?!"
Count opened his eyes and glared at Sparkle. Then his gaze softened slightly. "I'm not asking you to believe me--I only ask that you trust me."
Mythical reached out tentatively. "C-could I touch it?" she asked nervously, gesturing at the flower petal.
Count hesitated for a moment, then handed the petal over to Mythical.
Sparkle glanced at the two of them and scoffed. "Don't believe the rubbish he's talking about, Myth."
Mythical ignored her, and rubbed the petal between her paws. Nothing. Whatever "voice of Mira" Count claimed he heard when he touched the petal, she certainly wasn't hearing it.
She was just about to hand the petal back to Count, when she felt a jolt run up her arm. Then the jolt turned into a wave of some sort of feeling that she couldn't quite name. She didn't know if she loved or hated the sensation, if she was feeling joy or pain... but she didn't have time to think about it before her entire world went black.
CHAPTER 6
MIRA'S REQUEST
After a few moments, Mythical gained back her hearing, though she still couldn't see where she was. But she distinctly felt something fluffy and soft underneath her. A bed, perhaps? Wait--where was she?
"Hello, Mythical," a low, smooth voice flowed into Myth's ears and caused a warm, safe feeling to spread throughout her body like a sip of hot cocoa warming on a freezing day or a blanket being placed over her. Though Mythical was sure she had never heard the voice before, she recognized it instantly from Count's retelling of his dream: it was Mira!
"Mira?!" Myth was both confused and shocked. Why was Mira speaking to her? But never mind about that--she was speaking to the great goddess of Jamaa!
"I see that you have met Count," Mira said. "He is a good, brave fox, but I fear he will get into far too much trouble on his own."
Mythical wondered what Mira was implying. Did Mira want her to help Count destroy Jamaa? As she pondered this, she tried to open her eyes, though without succeeding. Why couldn't she open her eyes? Had she gone blind?
"Don't worry," Mira told her, and Mythical felt a feathery wing brush her face. The wing smelled strange--as though all the scents in all of Jamaa were caught on it. Myth could detect the unmistakable scent of the dirty Gofnak camps, along with the sugary and sweet smell of butterscotch candies. "You're not going crazy, nor are you blind. This is all happening inside of your head, though all of it is entirely real."
"Where are we?" Mythical asked, feeling the soft material that she lay on, trying to figure out what it might be.
"We are on The Cloud of Ziodin," Mira said, and Myth felt a wet tear splash against her own face. Was Mira crying? But why? After repeating the name of the cloud several times in her head, she realized why. Of course!
"My husband, Zios died directly below this cloud. His spirit, because of it's beauty, became a cloud: an object of ultimate purity and calmness. I spend all the time that I don't spend in our old garden perched upon this cloud. " Mira's wing moved away from Mythical's face, and she felt her move away. "But we're getting off topic, and we have so little time to begin with."
"What do you mean?" Myth was puzzled, and she was desperate for answers.
"Listen to me, Mythical. Listen very carefully. You and Count must destroy Jamaa."
"But why? And how?!" Mythical asked, exasperated. "Wouldn't that kill countless innocent animals?"
But just then, she felt herself begin to fade. Mira was saying something, but the world was disappearing so quickly that Myth couldn't decipher the words she was speaking.
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"Mythical?"
"Myth, are you okay?!?!?"
Groggily, Mythical opened one eye. Sparkle and Count were leaning over her. Her half-conscious senses weren't any help in her confusion. What had just happened?
"She's alive..." Count breathed a sigh of relief.
"Yeah, but she could have been killed thanks to you and your brainless yammering about how Mira supposedly spoke to you in a useless dream you had!" Sparkle exploded.
Count hung his head and looked miserable. Whatever authority and strength he had shown when they first met had now gone--wiped away, like a windshield wiper swipes away rain droplets.
Sparkle was about to yell at Count again, when Mythical sat up, despite the protests of her throbbing head. "He's not crazy," she said, rubbing her temples. "I spoke to Mira too."
"What!?" Sparkle asked, shocked.
Count looked both eager to receive more information from Mira, and relieved that Sparkle would stop tormenting him. At least for now. "What did she tell you?" he asked.
Myth slumped against the cavern wall. Her head hurt, and the spot where Mira's tear had splashed against her cheek burned, as though instead of a delicate, sorrowful tear, a huge match had been thrust into her face. And though she didn't feel like talking, she knew that this whole business with Mira was extremely important to Count. And to be honest, she was starting to become interested in it as well. Anything to escape that awful Gofnak camp.
"She didn't really tell me anything new," Mythical said, avoiding both of their stares. "When I held that petal, I was transported to a cloud. It was called The Cloud of Ziodin, or something like that. Apparently the cloud was actually the spirit of Zios and it was directly above where he died in the Lost Temple of Zios." As she spoke, she realized how ridiculous she must sound. But she knew that Count, at least, would believe her. "Mira also told me that I had to help you with your quest," she looked at Count. "And she told me that we had to destroy Jamaa."
"That's the thing." Count rubbed his paws together, trying to think. "I have no idea what she means by that, nor why she wants us to destroy Jamaa. Even if I understood all that, I still don't where to begin."
That's what Myth had been wondering about ever since she heard about what Mira had said to Count in his dream. Why did Mira want them to destroy Jamaa? And where did they begin?
Count hung his head and looked miserable. Whatever authority and strength he had shown when they first met had now gone--wiped away, like a windshield wiper swipes away rain droplets.
Sparkle was about to yell at Count again, when Mythical sat up, despite the protests of her throbbing head. "He's not crazy," she said, rubbing her temples. "I spoke to Mira too."
"What!?" Sparkle asked, shocked.
Count looked both eager to receive more information from Mira, and relieved that Sparkle would stop tormenting him. At least for now. "What did she tell you?" he asked.
Myth slumped against the cavern wall. Her head hurt, and the spot where Mira's tear had splashed against her cheek burned, as though instead of a delicate, sorrowful tear, a huge match had been thrust into her face. And though she didn't feel like talking, she knew that this whole business with Mira was extremely important to Count. And to be honest, she was starting to become interested in it as well. Anything to escape that awful Gofnak camp.
"She didn't really tell me anything new," Mythical said, avoiding both of their stares. "When I held that petal, I was transported to a cloud. It was called The Cloud of Ziodin, or something like that. Apparently the cloud was actually the spirit of Zios and it was directly above where he died in the Lost Temple of Zios." As she spoke, she realized how ridiculous she must sound. But she knew that Count, at least, would believe her. "Mira also told me that I had to help you with your quest," she looked at Count. "And she told me that we had to destroy Jamaa."
"That's the thing." Count rubbed his paws together, trying to think. "I have no idea what she means by that, nor why she wants us to destroy Jamaa. Even if I understood all that, I still don't where to begin."
That's what Myth had been wondering about ever since she heard about what Mira had said to Count in his dream. Why did Mira want them to destroy Jamaa? And where did they begin?
