Chapter 7 - Alagor

“– Teleportation Scroll!” Alagor finished. There was a sudden flood of darkness. When it dissipated, he was no longer in the churchyard. He spun around wildly. Blackheart was nowhere in sight. Neither were The Hidden.

“Damn it,” he sighed, “Any idea how he managed to get a Scroll, Astar?

There was no response.

“Astar?” he asked again almost absent-mindedly, still looking around.

He was somehow in the schoolyard now. Astar again gave no response.

“Astar?!” Alagor snapped this time, growing frustrated.

He turned to yell at him, but found only empty space where Astar stood seconds ago. It only now registered with Alagor that Blackheart and his minions were not the only ones missing. Astar, Kaesi, and Noah were gone as well.

“Astar!” he called out, hearing no answer other than his own voice, echoing faintly in the eerie stillness. “Noah! Kaesi!”

More silence. An uncomfortable lump began to form in the back of his throat. Something was wrong. He knew that paper Blackheart had dropped had to have been a Teleportation Scroll. But had it only sent him away?

“Maybe he forged a scroll,” Alagor thought, “Maybe it wasn’t strong enough to move all four of us, maybe…”

He stopped, again looking around. Something didn’t feel right. It was as if an unseen pair of eyes was watching him.

“Kaesi!” he screamed out again. He was growing more worried with each passing second.

“Anybody?...” he asked quietly.

He did his best to shake the eerie feeling that was crawling down his spine. There was a sudden, confusing impulse focused around his chest. It was as if something inside him had sprung to life. A single word formed in his mind: chapel. He wasn’t sure why, but he knew he had to act on this feeling.

“Calm down,” he told himself. “You’ve just got to get down to the chapel; it’s only a few blocks away.” He looked around and, confirming that no one was watching, sprouted his long, black wings. “It’s a good thing this is a small town,” he added. With one mighty thrash, he propelled himself several meters into the air, where he turned in the direction of the chapel and took off. After a few minutes, he still couldn’t shake the feeling that, despite not being able to find anyone, he was being watched. Alagor slowed down, coming to a hover. He focused all his energy into his ears. There was a faint, almost silent, whistling noise. It was getting louder; closer. Alagor’s eyes widened.

“Oh sh–”

There was a sudden pressure on his back; it felt as if someone had strapped a ten ton weight to him. He could feel himself plummeting to the ground, any minute he would collide. He spread his wings as wide as he could, trying to slow himself down. Alagor slowly started to come back to a hover, but it was too late. He was too close the ground now, and, with a painful thud, his body hit the pavement.

“Now I see why people without wings don’t fly,” he grumbled, pushing himself to his feet. He cracked his neck, stretching. “It hurts.”

“They aren’t there,” said a quiet, inflectionless voice.

Alagor turned to find Abigor standing flatfooted, hovering inches off the ground.

“What?” Alagor asked, still recovering from his crash.

“Your friends. They aren’t at the Holy Ground.”

“It’s an abandoned chapel,” Alagor said, panting, “It’s hardly Holy Ground.”

“It may be abandoned,” Abigor continued, no expression ever breaking his straight face, “but Blackheart was unable to enter; it must, therefore, be Holy Ground.”

“Heh,” Alagor laughed, grinning. “Well that was what we were hoping for when we chose that spot.” He paused. “So where are they then? Where are Astar and Kaesi and Noah?”

“Oh, I imagine they’re about where you are,” Abigor answered with an air of mystery, gently sinking to the ground.

Alagor stormed toward Abigor and grabbed him by his scarf. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Abigor, despite Alagor’s threatening manner, remained absolutely stoic. “I don’t believe I’m supposed to tell you,” he said, “but concurrently, I do not much care. You are not in the town of New Haven that you have come to know. It is in fact replica, existing only in your mind. However,” he paused. Alagor felt a sudden pain as Abigor’s fist made brief contact with his face. Alagor was knocked back several feet. “Everything that happens here is as real as ever.”

“And I’m guessing,” Alagor responded as he got back to his feet, “That the same goes for you,” he finished, running forward and swinging at Abigor. However, rather than landing a punch, Alagor’s fist went right through him. Abigor’s body where the punch had connected had become nothing more than smoke.

“No. I cannot be harmed.”

Alagor attacked again, with no change in result.

“Maybe I can’t hit you, but I doubt you can avoid this!” Alagor shouted, hurling a shadowy ball at Abigor. However, the blast simply phased through him.

“You cannot touch the wind,” Abigor said simply.

Alagor summoned his energy into his fist. A pitch-black orb formed around it. He swung again at Abigor as hard as he could. Just like every other attempt, Alagor’s fist met only air. Abigor held out a hand. A powerful gust of wind came from nowhere, hitting Alagor square in the chest; it felt as though he had been hit with a wrecking ball. Alagor fell to the ground, doubled over in pain. He looked at the ground, lost in thought. This pain was too severe to have come from a single attack.

“I’m not going to win this, am I?” Alagor asked, gasping for breath.

“Perhaps you aren’t as moronic as you look,” Abigor responded quietly. “Though I suppose you couldn’t very well walk and breathe at once if you were.”

Alagor laughed and grinned. “What’s the old saying?” he asked. “If you can’t beat ‘em?...”

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