Almost 20 years ago...
The ruins had been deserted for hundreds of years.
That was why they were called ruins and that was all they remained to be, a simple reminder of the past, of a world before machines and technology ruled the planet. These walls had seen generations upon generations of rulers, conquers, kings, and slaves walk amid their halls. They knew the stories of old, how knights had fought valiantly for their kingdoms, had laid down their lives seeking wealth and power-and the key to immortality.
But those days were long gone and the world had moved on from such times. Valor had faded to stories and stories to legends. There was no need for the tales now that the planet had new heroes, a new source of inspiration, a new direction. Wealth and power were to be used to better the world and with that came great responsibility, a responsibility the human race was not yet ready to wield.
And so the land lay barren, forgotten by time and forged by wind and waves, buried beneath centuries of history and age, dormant.
Resting.
Waiting.
Watching.
Over time, the land grew to shield the past from the rest of the world; trees sprouted through the heart of the foundation and ivy climbed the pillars, shrouding all secrets deep inside. A peace befell the forest, serene and unbroken, as time passed and everything disappeared into a fairytale, an old wive's tale that the entire world had long forgotten.
Well, almost the entire world.
The roar of backfiring exhausts shattered the calm and sent a multitude of birds screeching for cover. Animals of all kinds fled from the imposing noise and the thick tires crashing mercilessly through the trees around them. The vehicle, once green, now splattered with what one could only hope was mud, trampled through the woodland and its passengers all braced themselves for a sharp dip in and out of a running creek, particularly the small boy who was clinging desperately to the overhead handles as though his life depended on it as his skinny four-foot-tall frame was bounced and jostled and thrown in every direction imaginable.
"Father!" he cried out over another particularly loud explosion, but the man in the driver's seat didn't even turn his head, his eyes fixated on the road before him. The boy whimpered and curled up in his seat, bracing himself with his head between his knees and a hand out to hold himself steady against the rough terrain. "Father! Please stop! It hurts!"
"Not now!" snapped a rough tone that made the boy flinch and recoil even further inward. "We're so close now! Can't you feel it? We're almost there!"
But the child did not understand. He could only hold his breath and pray for this nightmare to end soon. He wasn't sure how much more of this jostling he could take. He wished he could have stayed home, in his warm bed, with his warm blanket and his baby sister and their three cats. That would have been so much nicer than being dragged out to this abandoned place-wherever they were.
Halfway between the edge of the world and nowhere, if he had to hazard a guess.
Not that that made him feel any better. It was still far away and he was still all alone in the back of the car and the vehicle was far from comfortable. Whatever his father was so intent on getting, couldn't he have accomplished it without him?
This was no place for a four-year-old!
Why could he see that when nobody else could?
Shaking and miserable, he carefully heaved himself into a sitting position and settled for staring out the window at the forest as it whizzed past. Glowing eyes watched him from the shadows, glinting momentarily as the high beams struck them only to vanish into the darkness moments later. They seemed to be warning him of danger, begging him to turn back, to go back to the city where he belonged.
How badly he wished he could.
I want to go back! he whispered silently to the creatures of the night. I do! Please! Let me go home! I don't want to be here!
Darkness chittered disapproval over the entire party and when he found no immediate rescue, he flopped back into his seat with a huff-just in time to jolt over another large pothole. He gritted his teeth, his knuckles turning deathly white as he fought to remain upright. How much farther? How much more was he going to be forced to go through just to appease his father's insane endeavors? A mythical land of power and eternal wisdom? Even at his young age, he knew how unlikely that kind of place would be. Call it his practical upbringing, but he did not believe any of that nonsense and he did not understand why his father would, or why he could be forced to come along as well.
He decided it was unavoidable. His father was a treasure hunter. His grandfather had been a thrill-seeker. It ran in the family, so naturally, it would be natural for him to be pulled into the magical whirlwind of insanity that gripped the generations before.
But that didn't mean he had to enjoy any of it. He didn't. He was cold, he was wet, and he just wanted his seat on the couch in front of a crackling fire with his mother's arms squeezed tightly around him and his little sister resting her head on his shoulder just like always.
Why couldn't he be doing that instead of this? That sounded nice, pleasant, and precisely what a young child should be doing on Christmas Eve! Not trekking through an uncharted jungle in search of some kind of fountain that probably didn't even exist!
Did he mention that he was four?
Four?!
This was madness! This was utter insanity! He'd had enough and he wanted out! He wanted out right now and-
Even as he was struggling to formulate the words to express his demands, the vehicle suddenly came to a grinding stop, hard enough to knock the boy from his seat with a yelp. As he was pulling himself back up, doors slammed shut with enough power to rock the entire thing.
"Boy! Hurry up! Get out of the car!"
Trembling, the boy readjusted his far-too-large lenses and wiped the sweat from his forehead before reaching for the door handle and all but tumbling out onto the slick grass. Feeling his father's disapproving scowl burning into his back, he quickly scrambled back to his feet, tugging his backpack further up onto his shoulders and letting his gaze fall to the earth. Rain drizzled firmly against his head and, miserable, he yanked his hood over his head, wringing his bangs with a sigh.
Footsteps crunched over through the thick foliage and dark boots came to a halt in front of the boy's father and he glanced up cautiously to the epigrapher bundled in three different ponchos, looking, if it was possible, even more disgruntled than the rest of them.
"Did you find it?" his father snapped. The boy jumped, nearly dropping his glasses into the mud and sniffling anxiously.
"Right this way, sir!"
And with a groan from the boy, the group was off, pushing their way through the overbrush and moving swiftly away from the vehicle. From safety.
They were going the wrong direction.
"Father-" the boy began to protest, only for a tight hand to seize his arm and jerk him forward so quickly that he nearly stumbled over a loose root, earning a displeased hiss from his father.
"Keep up! Pick up your feet! We're almost there! Come on!"
Those words would have meant a lot more had they not been barked about three decimals too loudly for his sensitive ears. He cringed but hastened to obey, practically running to keep pace now as the adults pushed aside several large branches, all of which promptly reached out to smack him in the face with their long tentacles of evil.
This place was bad. It felt all wrong. Why hadn't the grown-ups listened to the animals in the woods? Why oh why did they have to come here?
Why couldn't they have just listened?
"There it is, sir! Just as we said! Isn't it magnificent?"
At this, the boy briefly glanced up, squinting against the blaring sunlight to just barely make out the rough outline of a thick structure up ahead amid a ravine. It looked a lot like one of his play-castles back at home. Somehow he doubted little plastic toy knights were going to lower the drawbridge and welcome them inside for a feast and a double-helping of turkey.
This place was just so bad on so many levels.
Even the air felt off. It was never a good thing when the air felt bad.
Nevertheless, they continued, carefully making their way down the steep incline toward the abandoned fortress. Nothing stirred at their movements, not even when he poorly misstepped and nearly went tumbling all the way down and his father made no movement to try and catch him. He shook that off, adjusting his little jacket once again and steeling himself as the adults reached the bottom of the hill first and immediately started toward the structure, not giving a care in the world to the eyes watching them from the shadows.
He wondered if he was the only one who could see them.
"Look at the writing here, sir!" the epigrapher spoke again, his voice cracking with anticipation as he knelt down in front of the solid (and very closed) doors and ran a hand over some kind of lettering. "It appears to be some sort of ancient language! I can't quite make it out!"
"Out of my way," the father huffed, stepping up now and roughly pushing the man aside to glare at the words as though hoping to frighten them into submission. "What sort of mockery is this?" he snapped. "I've never seen this kind of writing in my life!"
He does not see because he does not understand.
The boy blinked as the words formulated through his brain. What? Did he think that? No, that didn't make sense. He didn't understand where the thought had come from.
But you, you are different than he. Step forward, young chosen. Let wisdom be the light to your path. Illuminate the darkness and let them see.
Swallowing hard, not sure what propelled him onward, the boy carefully squeezed past his father who was already turning furiously on his assistant to peer at the writing, unsure what he was supposed to be able to do considering he could not read his own language yet.
But that didn't seem to matter here, for the words seemed to fill his brain, translating into a way he could understand, just for him and nobody else.
Open wide the gates of the traveler's heart, lest the power sought falter from the start.
A Jumanji riddle. Perfect.
It's not that difficult! chirped the voice inside his head once again, sounding a little like it was laughing at him. It just means to be open to new ideas! Like pushing instead of pulling!
And suddenly it made sense! It was a simple logic puzzle! It wasn't anything difficult or challenging like his father was anticipating! It was so simple he could figure it out.
"I don't believe this!" his father was shouting. "After coming all this way, you mean to tell me this is it? This is all you can do? Unacceptable!"
Quickly! There is another way inside! We must hurry before the loud creatures complete their spat!
The boy gritted his teeth and carefully ran a hand across the cement wall to steady himself. It was official. There was someone out there talking to him.
Brilliant observation, Da Vinci.
"Who?" he whispered, earning a quick sharp glance from his father. "My name is-"
No time! Long story. Tell you all about it later! Hurry!
His grip tightened. "Which way do I go?"
Around back! Look for the bricks that seem out of line. Push the one on your left. You know your lefts and rights, correct?
"Of course, I know them! I'm four."
Well, pardon me then. I was notaware.
The voice sounded slightly irritated as the boy scrambled to obey, cautiously inching his way away from his father who continued his argument without a second glance.
Almost there. Just a little further. So close! the voice egged him on as he broke into a run, skidding around the corner and stopping to catch his breath.
All right! Now, look at the bricks! Pullout the left one!
He obeyed, frowning as he spotted the uneven pattern and stood up on his tiptoes to reach the correct brick, grasping and tugging it as hard as he could. The wall responded with a tremendous groan, swinging open to reveal a secret passage, dark but with light seeping through the cracks.
The boy whimpered, taking a step away. No dark. No dark. It's too scary. Monsters.
It's all right, the voice urged. There are no monsters, Ipromise. I need your help. You're the only one who can do it. Please.
"Daddy told me not to talk to strangers."
Ah, yes, a wise life lesson. However, I think that only applies to people you don't know. And we know you. You just don't knowit yet!
"I'm not sure..."
Think of me as your pet. Do you have a pet? Yes, you do. Cats. Ugh. Messy creatures. Anyway, I digress. I am like your pet, okay? It's okay to talk to me. I won't hurt you.
"But my cats don't talk back."
Okay, that's fair. Fair. You're a smart kid, you know that?
"I know."
A faint sound rang through his ears. It was possibly laughter, though what the voice found so amusing was lost on him. There was a moment of stillness following where the boy could hear his father winding down. He only had a few moments before his dissertation was discovered and the shouting began again, this time at him.
So, what are you going to do? the voice prodded.
He took a deep breath and pushed his legs forward, forcing himself to duck into the hole. He shivered as cobwebs slid across his jacket and brushed over his hands and he forced back another whimper. Be brave, he chanted to himself as he crawled into the dark. Be brave. His father would not want him to do this. He would be furious. But his father was also an explorer. He understood the concept of taking risks. And this was a risk the boy felt was worth taking.
How very valiant of you.
He ignored this, scuffing his knees on the hard cement as he pushed himself the rest of the way through and emerged into a great hall, brightly lit with beams of sunshine from the open skylights-which he found odd considering his jacket was still soaking wet and hadn't it just been raining?
You've noticed. Good. You're observant too.
"What am I doing here?" the boy demanded. "What do I do now?"
You see that large slab of concrete that looks like a table?
He did.
Go to it. There is something there I want you to see.
"Spiders?"
No spiders. Trust me.
He gulped, carefully shuffling over to the described box and heaving himself up on his arms to peer at its contents. No monsters jumped out of the shadows at him. He couldn't hear his father from here either. Everything was peaceful. He quite enjoyed it.
Serenity is a gift. It is to be used wisely. However, that is not all. Look closely at the table. What do you see?
The boy frowned, adjusting his lenses once more as he stared down at what the voice was referring to.
Two small boxes, lying side by side, untouched and coated with dust.
This was it? Years of his father searching for a solution to eternal life and the results were two tiny hexagons? Unbelievable.
They are not just shapes!
The voice rose urgently now and the boy winced slightly, his eyes shooting to his surroundings for the source of the tone. Seeing no one, he swallowed hard and focused once more on the boxes. "What's so special about them?" he whispered.
They are the sources of incredible powers. Of mighty warriors destined to protect and defend our land.
"So why are they here?"
Long ago, a terrible fight broke out. These boxes, which contain a dark power that both sides wished to control, were hidden away to protect them from those who would use them for evil. But the time for hiding is over. We must find successors who are worthy enough to wield these powers.
"Cool." The boy reached down and plucked one of the boxes from the ring. The darker brown one with intricate swirls and spikes etched on top. The sunlight seemed to make the marking gleam and dance like fire.
You have been chosen to protect them. Reach out now. Take them with you. Guard them...and when the time is right, give them to those you deem worthy. Above all, never ever use them for your own gain. Can we trust you with this?
A grin wider than the Seine spread across the child's face as he reached for the other box, nodding quickly to whatever unseen force was voicing this. "Uh, huh!" He pocketed one-the lighter-shaded one-and held the darker one up to the light. He fingered the latch, slowly turning the knob and preparing to open it-
"LET'S PACK IT UP! NOTHING TO SEE HERE! LET'S GO!"
His father's voice rang out through the stillness. Jolted back into reality, the boy stuffed the other box into his pocket and hastily ran for the exit, scrambling back through and pushing the secret door shut just before his father came storming around the corner, looking enraged.
"THERE you are! WHERE have you BEEN?" Before the boy could respond, the man had already taken him by the arm and was pulling him back toward the car, all the while raging under his breath. "This trip has been a complete waste of time and money! There was nothing here at all! Ancient ruins, my foot! Probably just some kind of tourist stunt for the locals! Unbelievable!"
And the boy sat once more in the backseat of the vehicle, fingering the large lumps in his pockets curiously and wondering what kind of magic they contained and why he was being allowed to take them with him.
This answer, along with hundreds of others, would not come to him until years later, after a series of shouting, slamming doors, and hatred all around, when the boy, who had long grown into a man, would throw himself down onto his bed and stare at the ceiling, listening to the sound of an engine revving to life and knowing that his father was leaving once again.
He groaned and rolled over to punch his pillow furiously-
-and then stopped when he caught sight of the boxes, having forgotten he'd set them on his bedside all those years before. All the memories flooded back to him like a whirlwind and he heaved himself into a sitting position, taking one-the one he'd always favored-and turning it over and over in his hands pondering, as he had done a thousand times before; why him?
He'd waited a very long time for answers that had never come. Perhaps now it was time to take matters into his own hands.
He was ready now.
So, taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and popped open the lid.
A blinding flash of red and yellow light flooded his closed eyelids and when he slowly cracked them open, he nearly screamed at the sight of what was in front of him.
A dragon.
There was a dragon in his room!
A living, breathing, growling dragon!
"Greetings," it spoke, golden-brown eyes gleaming curiously as his dark red and black tail swished back and forth and his wings, curled up at his side, shivered slightly. "My name is Trekk, Kwami of Vengance, and you must be my new chosen."
The boy grinned, sitting back, grabbing the pair of gloves from the box and tossing the box over his shoulder carelessly because there was a real-life dragon in his bedroom talking to him. "Hello, Trekk," he replied, forcing his voice to be as calm and collected as possible. He needed to come across as competent. It was the only way to get what he wanted. His father had taught him that-that was about all his father had taught him, actually. "I am Milo Astor, but you can call me Grimm."
The dragon blinked. "I see. And what is it you wish, now that you have awoken me from my slumber?"
Now, this was what he'd been waiting to hear. The smile grew even bolder as he ran a hand through his hair and then firmly jerked the gloves on. "I want you to help me get revenge on my father-and every other narcissistic, egotistical millionaire on this pathetic dirt rock."
"Are you sure you don't want to start with something a little smaller?" the dragon suggested warily. "Maybe a robbery or a pickpocket? You know, just to get warmed up?"
"No. I want my father to see what he's done to me-what he's made me into! I want to watch him suffer just as he caused me to suffer!"
"Oh my. Daring today, aren't we? Skipping the rehearsal and going straight to the finale!"
Grimm ignored him, already standing up and beginning to cross his room. The kwami's gaze followed him slowly. "Of course, this is too big a job for just the two of us," he muttered, almost half to himself. "We're going to need help."
His eyes drifted across to the second box, lying dormant beside his alarm clock, and then over to the poster of the world hanging just about the headboard of his bed and the star stamped right into the heart of one of the biggest cities in the world.
Paris, France.
"And I know just where to get it."
