Disclaimer: I don't own the characters from the Tomb Raider games or movies.
Please tell me what you think about my work.
In the Clouds
He still couldn't understand why he had to fly to Maui, but his ticket stated very clearly that this indeed was his destination. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, abandoned the paper he had been reading and once again turned to look out of the window as the clouds passed the plane by. Although they normally made him calmer, there existed now a spark of restlessness inside him, a spark he couldn't extinguish. It felt like his grandmother's words had lit up a fire inside him, and only finding the Halls and stopping this Karel could end it burning him from the inside. To his amazement the clouds began to form shapes, like figures, and all of them were staring at him. Was he becoming mad? First the shadowy forms in the black pool and now the ones of white foam in the sky. Kurtis glued his face to the window, much to the amazement of the man who sat next to him. Not minding his co-passenger staring at him with wide-open eyes, Kurtis kept on looking at the clouds, wondering what caused the illusion. They couldn't be real, no, they simply couldn't. They were created by his imagination or else there was something wrong with his head, seriously.
He found their shapes enchanting and their slow movements bewitching. It felt like entering a psychosomatic dream, a world that existed beyond the borders of this one. He tore his eyes from the cloudy figures and turned to see the man sitting next to him, only to meet a slightly frightened stare. Was he able to see the forms or did they again exist only to him? If it was so, was he the only one who could cross the border between this world and the spectral one? That is, if there even was a border. The other, more frightening, option was that all of the things he saw and had seen lived in this one world hidden from human eyes and for some reason were shown to him only. Was it in his genes to see the things normally hidden from view?
He closed his eyes and shook his head as if he was trying to drive these mirages away from his mind, but when he opened his eyes again, the figures were still there.
"Excuse me, sir," Kurtis heard someone saying carefully, as if afraid Kurtis would attack and rip the meat from his bones. "Are you alright?"
Kurtis chuckled a bit. Perhaps the person asking thought that he was high on something or just simply had lost his mind. He couldn't deny that he had thought about the latter option himself. Where was the line between sanity and insanity? How subtle was it, or was it again one of the illusions created by human beings to be safe from the true world? Just a similar illusion to the rose-tinted glasses they wore.
"Quite alright, thank you," Kurtis replied emphasizing the 'thank you' so that the man and all the others in the plane would simply leave him alone. He hated when people asked if he was alright. Couldn't one see that quite clearly if one was fine or not? It was one of the most vain sentences that he knew. The man that had asked the question shut his mouth quickly and looked away as if Kurtis had hurt his feelings. To be frank, he didn't care even if he had. He wasn't there to care about everyone's feelings.
Kurtis again looked out of the window, but this time saw only normal clouds. Nothing he had seen before existed anymore. He was saved from more looks from his co-passengers by a voice that told them the plane was about to land, and they were told to fasten their seatbelts.
He was glad when he got off the plane. For some reason his ears began hurting every time he was in an airplane as it began to land. He had tried everything from eating gum to special earplugs, but nothing seemed to help. Perhaps his ears weren't made to tolerate such great changes in air pressure. He followed the people with the paper in his hand to get his luggage back. It wasn't that large a bag, but he had to put it in the luggage space because of his Boran X and Chirugai. He wasn't allowed to take them into the cabin, not anymore. After waiting for almost half an hour the baggages of their flight emerged to the conveyor belt, but his bag wasn't amongst the first ones.
After almost an hour he was still waiting, but when everyone else who had been on his flight had gotten their bags and suitcases, he gave up and strode over to the information desk.
"Where is my bag?" he asked in an annoyed voice. He only got a blank stare from the man behind the counter. Probably he had to meet many people who had lost their baggage each day and was bored of them but it didn't stop Kurtis feeling angry.
"I'm terribly sorry, sir," he said to Kurtis, and gave him a rather large piece of paper. "Please fill out this form and we shall send your luggage to you when it emerges."
"When it emerges," Kurtis hissed under his breath. Something like this just had to happen when he really needed his weapons. How was he going to defeat this Karel now? He had none of his weapons with him. Frustratedly he grabbed the form and began to scribble something on it. While filling the paper he could feel the customer advisor's eyes on him. Was there something that strange about him that everyone just had to stare? He handed the piece of paper back to the man behind the counter, not looking at him.
"Thank you, sir," the man said in a monotone. Was there a school or something that taught them to speak like that? "We'll inform you if your bag resurfaces."
Kurtis strode away from the airport, filled with anger. What was he supposed to do now that he had lost all of his weapons? Suddenly he stopped remembering something he hadn't remembered before. Carefully he touched the side of his belt, feeling the hilt of the Shadow Katana. He had totally forgotten he still had it. For some reason the metal detector hadn't detected it, perhaps because the blade was made of shadow or , like his grandmother had told him, the soul of the first dissident nephilim. If it was all he had it would simply have to be enough.
He grabbed the paper he still had and threw it into a garbage can, or at least tried. As soon as it was free it was grabbed by the wind and rolling on the ground. Whenever Kurtis tried to grab it, it rolled further away from him, and finally stopped when someone dressed totally in black stepped on it. For a moment Kurtis stared at the stranger's shoes and then turned to look at his face. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses and he wore a long, black jacket. It was almost impossible to make out his face but Kurtis was pretty sure it was pale. The stranger silently picked up the paper, not looking at Kurtis at all.
"You dropped your magazine," he said in a calm, soulless voice, looking at the paper.
Kurtis stayed silent for a while. "I was about to throw it away."
"Don't," the stranger said quickly. "Throw away important things."
Kurtis was stunned. How could that paper be important? He had read it through on the plane and it didn't have anything that could help him in it. He looked at the ground and failed to see the white flash behind the stranger's sunglasses.
"Why would it be important?"
"Perhaps you're just too blind to see it, Mr. Trent."
Kurtis was growing bored of this very fast. Somehow the most strange people he had never met knew his name, and he was sure that this one wasn't related to him. He looked around, only to see people gaping at him. Not another mirage that only he could see.
"Why can't they see you?" Kurtis asked carefully.
"Who said they couldn't? Perhaps they just don't want to. They are so keen of their idea of this world that they see nothing that doesn't fit in. Seeing us is beyond their ability of understanding."
"Understanding? Even I don't understand! How do you know my name? What the hell are you anyway?"
"You will eventually. What I am does not make any difference, it doesn't change anything, for I am not the one with the power."
The power? What was that supposed to mean? "You didn't answer my question. What are you?"
"Someone making the wrongs right." After saying this he handed the magazine back to Kurtis, who took it, not looking at the hand that gave it to him. If he had, he wouldn't have seen anything else but a dim light that held the paper. When he looked up again there was no one to be seen, but the paper was in his hand.
Kurtis sat on a bench nearby and opened the magazine to go through it again, more carefully this time. All the same pieces of news were still printed on the pages - all except one. He remember the little piece of news telling about 'the Halls of Justice'. The article had been about the law in general, especially all the little loopholes it had, all the ways to avoid being punished for a crime one had committed. The first thing that caught Kurtis' attention in this article was the headline, or better, what the headline was supposed to be. It was changed like someone had rewritten it, like something had altered it. Something that had been in contact with the paper after he had read it the second time. 'Someone making the wrongs right'. What wrongs?
Eagerly Kurtis began to read the article now called 'the Halls of Judgement' noticing that the re-writing didn't only apply to the headline - the whole article was changed and nothing that was printed there before was left, nothing. It was filled with knowledge about ancient religions and myths starting from Egyptian mythology and ending with Greek. It told about the scales, their meaning and most important of all - the Halls of Doom.
He eyed the article greedily to find some clue about the place where the Halls lay. Finally his eyes met one. It was written in English as if translated directly for him, and for him alone. He doubted that anyone else could've read that article.
"The line is formed and the fate is drawn
In the end their life will be no more
And the freedom of will shall fall
If the one can rule it all."
"In the fiery depths, in the cavern of flame
The groups of living are waiting the blame
Where once was justice it now shall fail
Unless the one can't step into the cave."
"To stop him there is a way
A being with no soul can never gain
Peace and in limbo he shall remain
If in the right way he is slain."
"In the mountain of fire
In the heat of the pyre
Lies the one's true desire
To rule this world and fate with ire."
Mountain of fire? A volcano? As far as Kurtis knew there was one on Maui.
Please tell me what you think about my work.
In the Clouds
He still couldn't understand why he had to fly to Maui, but his ticket stated very clearly that this indeed was his destination. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, abandoned the paper he had been reading and once again turned to look out of the window as the clouds passed the plane by. Although they normally made him calmer, there existed now a spark of restlessness inside him, a spark he couldn't extinguish. It felt like his grandmother's words had lit up a fire inside him, and only finding the Halls and stopping this Karel could end it burning him from the inside. To his amazement the clouds began to form shapes, like figures, and all of them were staring at him. Was he becoming mad? First the shadowy forms in the black pool and now the ones of white foam in the sky. Kurtis glued his face to the window, much to the amazement of the man who sat next to him. Not minding his co-passenger staring at him with wide-open eyes, Kurtis kept on looking at the clouds, wondering what caused the illusion. They couldn't be real, no, they simply couldn't. They were created by his imagination or else there was something wrong with his head, seriously.
He found their shapes enchanting and their slow movements bewitching. It felt like entering a psychosomatic dream, a world that existed beyond the borders of this one. He tore his eyes from the cloudy figures and turned to see the man sitting next to him, only to meet a slightly frightened stare. Was he able to see the forms or did they again exist only to him? If it was so, was he the only one who could cross the border between this world and the spectral one? That is, if there even was a border. The other, more frightening, option was that all of the things he saw and had seen lived in this one world hidden from human eyes and for some reason were shown to him only. Was it in his genes to see the things normally hidden from view?
He closed his eyes and shook his head as if he was trying to drive these mirages away from his mind, but when he opened his eyes again, the figures were still there.
"Excuse me, sir," Kurtis heard someone saying carefully, as if afraid Kurtis would attack and rip the meat from his bones. "Are you alright?"
Kurtis chuckled a bit. Perhaps the person asking thought that he was high on something or just simply had lost his mind. He couldn't deny that he had thought about the latter option himself. Where was the line between sanity and insanity? How subtle was it, or was it again one of the illusions created by human beings to be safe from the true world? Just a similar illusion to the rose-tinted glasses they wore.
"Quite alright, thank you," Kurtis replied emphasizing the 'thank you' so that the man and all the others in the plane would simply leave him alone. He hated when people asked if he was alright. Couldn't one see that quite clearly if one was fine or not? It was one of the most vain sentences that he knew. The man that had asked the question shut his mouth quickly and looked away as if Kurtis had hurt his feelings. To be frank, he didn't care even if he had. He wasn't there to care about everyone's feelings.
Kurtis again looked out of the window, but this time saw only normal clouds. Nothing he had seen before existed anymore. He was saved from more looks from his co-passengers by a voice that told them the plane was about to land, and they were told to fasten their seatbelts.
He was glad when he got off the plane. For some reason his ears began hurting every time he was in an airplane as it began to land. He had tried everything from eating gum to special earplugs, but nothing seemed to help. Perhaps his ears weren't made to tolerate such great changes in air pressure. He followed the people with the paper in his hand to get his luggage back. It wasn't that large a bag, but he had to put it in the luggage space because of his Boran X and Chirugai. He wasn't allowed to take them into the cabin, not anymore. After waiting for almost half an hour the baggages of their flight emerged to the conveyor belt, but his bag wasn't amongst the first ones.
After almost an hour he was still waiting, but when everyone else who had been on his flight had gotten their bags and suitcases, he gave up and strode over to the information desk.
"Where is my bag?" he asked in an annoyed voice. He only got a blank stare from the man behind the counter. Probably he had to meet many people who had lost their baggage each day and was bored of them but it didn't stop Kurtis feeling angry.
"I'm terribly sorry, sir," he said to Kurtis, and gave him a rather large piece of paper. "Please fill out this form and we shall send your luggage to you when it emerges."
"When it emerges," Kurtis hissed under his breath. Something like this just had to happen when he really needed his weapons. How was he going to defeat this Karel now? He had none of his weapons with him. Frustratedly he grabbed the form and began to scribble something on it. While filling the paper he could feel the customer advisor's eyes on him. Was there something that strange about him that everyone just had to stare? He handed the piece of paper back to the man behind the counter, not looking at him.
"Thank you, sir," the man said in a monotone. Was there a school or something that taught them to speak like that? "We'll inform you if your bag resurfaces."
Kurtis strode away from the airport, filled with anger. What was he supposed to do now that he had lost all of his weapons? Suddenly he stopped remembering something he hadn't remembered before. Carefully he touched the side of his belt, feeling the hilt of the Shadow Katana. He had totally forgotten he still had it. For some reason the metal detector hadn't detected it, perhaps because the blade was made of shadow or , like his grandmother had told him, the soul of the first dissident nephilim. If it was all he had it would simply have to be enough.
He grabbed the paper he still had and threw it into a garbage can, or at least tried. As soon as it was free it was grabbed by the wind and rolling on the ground. Whenever Kurtis tried to grab it, it rolled further away from him, and finally stopped when someone dressed totally in black stepped on it. For a moment Kurtis stared at the stranger's shoes and then turned to look at his face. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses and he wore a long, black jacket. It was almost impossible to make out his face but Kurtis was pretty sure it was pale. The stranger silently picked up the paper, not looking at Kurtis at all.
"You dropped your magazine," he said in a calm, soulless voice, looking at the paper.
Kurtis stayed silent for a while. "I was about to throw it away."
"Don't," the stranger said quickly. "Throw away important things."
Kurtis was stunned. How could that paper be important? He had read it through on the plane and it didn't have anything that could help him in it. He looked at the ground and failed to see the white flash behind the stranger's sunglasses.
"Why would it be important?"
"Perhaps you're just too blind to see it, Mr. Trent."
Kurtis was growing bored of this very fast. Somehow the most strange people he had never met knew his name, and he was sure that this one wasn't related to him. He looked around, only to see people gaping at him. Not another mirage that only he could see.
"Why can't they see you?" Kurtis asked carefully.
"Who said they couldn't? Perhaps they just don't want to. They are so keen of their idea of this world that they see nothing that doesn't fit in. Seeing us is beyond their ability of understanding."
"Understanding? Even I don't understand! How do you know my name? What the hell are you anyway?"
"You will eventually. What I am does not make any difference, it doesn't change anything, for I am not the one with the power."
The power? What was that supposed to mean? "You didn't answer my question. What are you?"
"Someone making the wrongs right." After saying this he handed the magazine back to Kurtis, who took it, not looking at the hand that gave it to him. If he had, he wouldn't have seen anything else but a dim light that held the paper. When he looked up again there was no one to be seen, but the paper was in his hand.
Kurtis sat on a bench nearby and opened the magazine to go through it again, more carefully this time. All the same pieces of news were still printed on the pages - all except one. He remember the little piece of news telling about 'the Halls of Justice'. The article had been about the law in general, especially all the little loopholes it had, all the ways to avoid being punished for a crime one had committed. The first thing that caught Kurtis' attention in this article was the headline, or better, what the headline was supposed to be. It was changed like someone had rewritten it, like something had altered it. Something that had been in contact with the paper after he had read it the second time. 'Someone making the wrongs right'. What wrongs?
Eagerly Kurtis began to read the article now called 'the Halls of Judgement' noticing that the re-writing didn't only apply to the headline - the whole article was changed and nothing that was printed there before was left, nothing. It was filled with knowledge about ancient religions and myths starting from Egyptian mythology and ending with Greek. It told about the scales, their meaning and most important of all - the Halls of Doom.
He eyed the article greedily to find some clue about the place where the Halls lay. Finally his eyes met one. It was written in English as if translated directly for him, and for him alone. He doubted that anyone else could've read that article.
"The line is formed and the fate is drawn
In the end their life will be no more
And the freedom of will shall fall
If the one can rule it all."
"In the fiery depths, in the cavern of flame
The groups of living are waiting the blame
Where once was justice it now shall fail
Unless the one can't step into the cave."
"To stop him there is a way
A being with no soul can never gain
Peace and in limbo he shall remain
If in the right way he is slain."
"In the mountain of fire
In the heat of the pyre
Lies the one's true desire
To rule this world and fate with ire."
Mountain of fire? A volcano? As far as Kurtis knew there was one on Maui.