Chapter 1 – Along Came a Hedgehog
"Heroes are made by the paths they choose, not the powers they are graced with."
— Brodi Ashton, Everneath
—
A cooling wind blew across the grassy hills and shadowed valleys on the outskirts of South Island, a free force, unfettered, untamed, and unbounded by any walls. It danced among the palm trees, set the large flowers swaying in time to the distant crashing of waves on the cliffs, kicked up little whirlwinds of dust, and rustled through the tall grasses with a steady swish-hiss. It curled around the distinctive arches and bluffs of the coastal region, carrying with it the salty tang of the sea mingled with the earthy aroma of sun-baked ridges and the fresh, green smell of everything. Sunshine sparkled on the waves, visible over the tops of unique, checkered ridges, scattering light like a fluid prism.
Atop one ridge close to the shore, a solitary young hedgehog shielded his eyes from the reflected glare and took in a deep, heady breath. Somewhat short for a Mobian his age, his body still held some of the baby fat of his childhood, in contrast to his lean arms and legs. Bright red and white sneakers covered his feet, and white gloves dressed his pale-furred hands.
He savored the fresh aromas carried on the wind, the song of the shushing grasses and the rhythmic beat of the waves, the warmth of the sun on his shoulders. The breeze teased at his blue fur and whistled through his quills before continuing down the hillside in its merry tumble, and the hedgehog found himself closing his eyes and spreading his arms wide, simply enjoying the feel of so much open space around him.
Behind him sat a beat-up old biplane, its red paint job flaking away in spots to reveal the battered silvery metal underneath. Old as it was it held up well, making the long trip to South Island over expansive, featureless ocean without so much as a creak or a clank. Its prop now sat still, the hum of its engine silent, waiting for its owner to have need of it again.
Not that young Sonic the Hedgehog would be needing it for a while. He'd only just got here, after all.
He opened his eyes, scanning the countryside and thinking. "Where to start?" he wondered out loud, stretching his legs out of habit. His hand held a small journal with notes and clippings, copies of rumors and tales pointing to "miracle gems" on the lush island. Dark eyes traced the lines and contours of the landscape and the higher regions of the island's central mountains beyond. A small distracted part of him, as free as the wind that continued to toy with his quills, plotted out a likely running course through the green hills even as he consciously tried to decide where to begin his search. He tried to focus, tried to ignore that little voice inside that just wanted to see everything up close and at high speeds. Focus, like his uncle tried to teach him. Keep his mind on the task at hand, on the purpose of his visit.
The siren call of all that lovely expansive terrain was just too much to ignore, however. His feet itched to explore and introduce the topography to his sneakers on a personal level. "Aw, heck with it," he finally conceded with a laugh, tossing the journal back into the biplane's single seat. "I've been cooped up in that plane for too long. Time to loosen the ol' legs a bit. Those fancy rocks can wait."
Sonic crouched, one hand braced on the ground ahead of him, eyes scanning the land ahead one last time. The breeze teased at his ears. Everything seemed to sharpen to his senses. Adrenaline surged through him in anticipation, its familiar bite crackling in his veins like lightning.
Time slowed to a standstill. Grass bent in the wind, a bird caught mid-flap nearby, a butterfly in slow drift to a flower. The hedgehog was intensely aware of that split second before movement began.
Sonic snapped forward and left time in the dust.
Emerald grass flew past beneath his feet as he launched down the hill, reaching impressive speeds in a matter of moments. Scenery passed in a blur, streaks of green and brown against a blue backdrop, spots of color here and there where flowers grew or surprised animals leaped away from the blue speed demon.
The terrain started out fairly clear, gentle slopes and broad curves that seemed almost made for sprinting, even and grassy and just firm enough for Sonic's feet to find clear purchase to propel his compact body forward. The soles of his sneakers drummed on the ground in a steady tmp-tmp-tmp, just a bit faster than the thrum of his heart beating in his chest. Gold glinted against the green and brown, occasional groups of sparkling rings that floated just above the ground and caught the sunlight against their bright curves. "Manifestations of Chaos," Sonic's uncle had called them, some kind of natural accumulation of power that took on that oddly unique shape. They were more numerous here than back home, but Sonic expected they would behave the same when touched, and tested his theory. Just as he'd thought, as soon as his fingers brushed against the first, it disappeared in a twinkle of light and filled him with a brief jolt of extra energy, like a fresh hit of adrenaline.
He rounded another curve, and stumbled only slightly as the ground started to grow uneven, rocks jutting out of the grass in places. Sonic dodged easily, hopping over the low rocks and sidestepping the larger boulders, reacting with reflexes grown supernaturally sharp to compensate for his speed. A series of ledges led to higher ground ahead, and he hopped up lightly without breaking stride before continuing down the next slope.
The rocky land opened up to another straightaway and Sonic pushed himself to top speed, whooping in exhilaration as he felt the wind pressing against his face and torso, leaning forward to cut through the air more efficiently. His uncle had timed him once, clocking him in at some 200 meters per second—just over halfway to breaking the sound barrier, but not quite there yet. One of these days... he thought, grinning to himself.
He sped through a looping arch, laughing as he briefly defied gravity, momentum carrying him up the underside of the arch and down the other support into a headlong downhill rush. He tucked into a roll to pick up speed, rocketing forward faster than he'd ever gone before. The path took him through a steep, sloping tunnel and through a narrow chimney in the stone—he barely glimpsed steep walls and blue sky high above—before entering another, steeper tunnel in the ground. The end shot him out at a slight upward slope, like a natural ramp, and before he could even think of trying to slow down his speed launched him high into the air, right through a cluster of rings. He couldn't hold back a wild shout of joy at the intoxicating rush, before gravity forced him to pay attention again as he began to fall toward the ground. Feet met the ground in a run, propelling him forward as he continued down the next hill, crowing with elation the whole way.
More uneven ground surged up to meet him, gaps and pitfalls between segments of terrain forcing Sonic to jump over them, teeth gritted to focus on his footing. One grassy ledge crumbled underneath his feet and he threw himself forward, tucking and rolling back on solid ground. He glanced behind to see the ledge collapse into the ravine below it.
As he turned back to face forward he was forced to skid to a full stop as a tall cliff face loomed above him, catching him off guard and blocking his route. He grumbled to himself at the loss of speed and looked around for alternate paths. He could try to climb some nearby ledges, but they were spaced far enough apart that it would be tricky at best. If he could only get up enough speed he could try running up the cliff face, but he needed a good downhill for that.
Sonic examined the cliff face again, frowning and probing at it with his fingers. Part of the wall seemed softer in one spot, more brittle. Maybe...if he could pick up just a bit of speed, he might be able to cut through it with his spines. He'd only ever done it a few times before, with much smaller and more fragile obstacles, but it was either that or tedious platform-hopping. If nothing else, it was worth trying.
He backtracked to where the ledge had fallen, glancing down briefly and wincing at the sight of spikes below—who had put those there?—and grateful he'd managed to make the jump, before turning back and crouching again. There wasn't a lot of distance between him and the cliff face, but he was pretty sure he could get up just enough speed to give him the necessary force behind his roll. Hopefully.
He dashed forward.
The distance closed in a heartbeat, but just before he would have pancaked himself on the unyielding stone, he tucked into a roll and flared out his quills into a spiky ball of destruction. Hedgehog met cliff wall, and dust and rock flew in all directions as he ground through the ridge.
He stumbled out the other side, somewhat dizzy and quite filthy, but eminently thrilled that it had actually worked. Self-satisfaction didn't keep him still for long, though, and after a quick shake to loosen most of the grime from his quills, he took off at a sprint once more.
His path took him around a large grotto, passing between a wide waterfall and the cliff wall behind it, before arching up again over a series of bridges connecting several smaller pillars of land that led inland. Sonic finally skidded to a deliberate stop on one bridge, looking out over the impressive vista. In the distance he could see the interconnected islets that formed the jagged coast of South Island, tall columns of stone leaning against each other, striped with waterfalls and dotted with trees. Sea birds soared among the earthen spires, and distant movement implied other life—possibly even Mobians, though Sonic couldn't make out what kind from this range.
The young hedgehog's stomach rumbled, and he rubbed his belly sheepishly. "Maybe I can find a village and bum some food off of them," he mumbled aloud, scanning his path ahead to see if he could see signs of civilization. "Wonder if they've got chili dogs here."
With a small hop and renewed enthusiasm, Sonic headed down the next hill, deeper into the hilly region and, hopefully, toward a good meal.
—
Sonic came across the first real sign of habitation a few miles later, which at his velocity translated to only a minute or two. He slowed down with a skid in a cloud of dust to better examine the stone marker, propped up at a slight angle next to a worn dirt path. Letters carved into the rough coralite surface noted the name of the upcoming village—Ridgetop—and marked its distance away. Sonic sighed. Only a mile. He'd better keep the pace down now, or risk ticking off yet more villagers as he blew things around and sowed chaos in his wake.
The village came into view around the next bend, nestled in a valley lined with palm trees and more of the oversized flowers. It looked cozy from Sonic's vantage point, quaint little huts of sun-baked brick and green thatch roofs, a well-worn dirt path winding through the center of the settlement like an earthy ribbon. Small gardens peppered the village, lush and vibrant with mid-summer growth. Strings of fish hung from eaves to dry, laundry lay draped on stones in back yards, and a pile of baskets sat by a central fire ring, partially finished.
Sonic jogged down to the village itself, stomach rumbling in anticipation of a warm, fresh meal and maybe a bath to clean off the rest of the dirt from his fur. Even if they didn't have chili dogs, whatever fare they could provide had to be better than the dry, stale rations packed away in the biplane.
He'd reached the first of the huts before he realized something about the village was...off. The hamlet was silent, save for the hollow whistle of the wind through half-open shutters and across chimneys. No laughter, no conversations, no sound of running feet or everyday chores. He looked around, hackles rising in nervousness, and called out, "Hello? Anybody home?"
No answer.
He peered into partially-open doorways and around window frames, and saw no one. True, sometimes whole communities up and left for new pastures—especially if they had a lot of herd species among them—often due to flooding or to settle in more ideal locations. No one truly owned the land, after all, and sometimes people just wanted something new. Something was wrong about this, however, and it didn't take long for Sonic to realize what.
When most communities packed up and left, they actually packed up.
Sonic's fur stood on edge as he wandered the small hamlet, peeking into the huts occasionally, each small bit of evidence worrying him further. Laundry left scattered on rocks to dry, the occasional toy abandoned in a doorway, the pile of half-finished baskets with no one left to tend them. Food sat out on tables within the huts, meals cold but not yet spoiled. Sonic took a moment to swipe a fruit and a bread roll, murmuring apologies to the hut's owner for the small theft, and wandered back out, wondering what had caused the entire village to just up and leave without gathering up their belongings first.
He found his answer at the far end of the village. Black scorch marks marred the packed earth, several leading into the village proper, occasionally straying up hut walls where the brick had been singed, leaving scars of char on the exterior walls. Whatever had caused the marks, it had been deliberate, guided, not some random vagrant fire.
An attack.
The villagers hadn't left willingly.
Sonic felt the sudden urge to check on his biplane, to make sure his ride off of the island was safe. He glanced around once more, as if to reassure himself that whatever had driven—or carried—the villagers off was no longer around, then turned and sprinted back the way he had come at top speed, huts shaking and loose items tumbling around in his wake.