Finding himself on this island, Verd couldn't believe his luck was so meager: from the depths of the mountain, he had been hurled straight into the sky.
Looking down, he blinked, unable to trust his eyes. The distance between him and the ground was measured in kilometers, yet even from such a height, he could barely make out any details.
Instead of the lush greenery that had once covered it, below stretched a scorched, reddish landscape. The land was almost flat, broken only here and there by rocky outcrops that vaguely resembled mountains.
'Alright. Now I need to figure something out.'
He spent the rest of the day devising a plan, but his situation turned out to be far more difficult than he had expected.
At his disposal were only a patch of earth, a few scraggly trees, and a three-meter stone block. Around him, five other similar islands shimmered in the air, but they were of no use.
'Could this be punishment for my past deeds?' — crossed Verd's mind.
He sprawled out on the ground, arms and legs spread, and stared at the setting sun.
Slowly, then as if gaining speed, the sun finally sank below the horizon. Dehydrated and hungry, Verd curled up on his side, tucking his hands under his head. Even as sleep approached, he didn't stop trying to find a way out.
'If only I were awakened, like Kael' — he thought — 'I'd risk jumping, even if I broke my legs.'
Though broken legs in this world were as good is a live burial. Meeting monsters without the ability to flee promised the most terrible death. For now, though, he was more concerned with quieting the noises in his stomach.
Suddenly, he heard the sound of waves. Where could water noises come from at such a height?
Without getting up, Verd carefully crawled to the edge, sticking out only his head and the tips of his fingers. What he saw made him swallow hard, robbing him of speech.
A monstrous wave, nearly level with the island, raced at breakneck speed, sweeping away everything in its path: monsters, structures, mountains. Nothing could withstand its onslaught.
The round little island he had been cursing moments ago became the sole reason he was still alive. The kilometers of emptiness between him and the ground were now filled with salt water.
The surge lasted until sunset. As the water began to recede, Verd made out the shapes of strange peaks before him. But from his vantage point, it was hard to tell what they were.
Soon, a mountain broke through the water's surface — tall, a kilometer high. When the water finally disappeared, a mountain range of hundreds of peaks stood before him. But even their heights were not enough for him to descend.
'Well... at least now I have a better chance of getting out' — Verd thought, gazing at the majestic mountain landscape with renewed hope.
***
Morning greeted Verd with icy embraces. An incredible, unprecedented sight unfolded before his eyes: snow was falling on his tiny island, floating above the clouds. He didn't know what was happening, but he quickly realized: if this madness continued, death from cold would be inevitable.
Half an hour later, shivering from the cold, Verd like a skilled carver armed himself with his blade and began breaking off branches. A vivid memory of how people in the mountains started fires showed him the way: two stones, quick, deft movements. The wood crackled and yielded to the flame. Sitting on the very edge of his tiny world, Verd decided to snack on some roasted bark and began to think. The mountains spread out before him now seemed like a tangled labyrinth.
'I'm certainly not going there. But... it's probably the only thing I can do right now.'
After all, his abilities were limited to barely managing to light a fire and gathering branches. If there were even one fruit here, he might try to grow them, but real food was now a luxury for him.
By this time, the sun had barely passed its zenith, and although imperceptibly, the air had become noticeably warmer. He scooped up a handful of earth, sprinkled it over the smoldering fire, and left it to cool, planning to relight it in the evening. He had learned this method of saving firewood from a man in the mountains — when the fire pit cooled down, they simply covered it with sand or dirt, then lit the fire again later. On average, they did this about five times before the wood became completely unusable.
'Am I not asleep?' — he muttered, pinching his cheek.
Why had he ended up in this place of all places?
***
Despite the sudden cold and the new wave, Verd did not give up hope of getting down as soon as possible. Of course, the prospect of another wave ready to wash him away frightened him. But it no longer mattered, because one way or another, he was doomed. Starvation or suffocation — one of the two. In the first case, prolonged suffering awaited him; in the second, at least he would lose consciousness from the fall. And yet, the thought of his death would not leave him. He didn't want to die. At least not today.
'Damn it.'
Letting out his frustration, he shouted:
'I've got absolutely nothing here!'
Sitting in the center of the island, among the sparse trees, he crossed his arms and legs, staring at the fire. After a few seconds, he began to fidget, shifting into various positions, just to pass the time and, perhaps, unexpectedly stumble upon a saving idea.
When snow began to fall again, with an unbearable thirst, Verd opened his mouth, catching the falling snowflakes. This method of obtaining water was extremely inefficient, but he had no other choice. An hour later, by some miracle, he had avoided the torment of thirst. Snacking once more on charred wood, he saw out the dying day. Toward evening, Verd waited vigilantly for several hours for the previous day's wave, but nothing happened. No water, no raging current.
***
Everything remained calm until the next morning. Waking up, Verd was tormented by the snow falling on his face.
So, sing his blade effectively, he made a small hole in his little mountain on the island. The weapon dulled slightly but was still usable. It was also fortunate that the stone was close to the trees. During the work, due to the insufficient length and shape of the branches, everything kept collapsing. Sometimes they broke from a sudden gust of wind; the worst was that when that happened, they fell downward. Such moments were critical, as resources were running out.
In the end, without any skills or know-how, by breaking off strong, long, and more or less straight branches, Verd managed to create a foundation for a future shelter.
He immediately thought that all the difficulties were behind him. And that was his mistake.
Building a roof to protect him seemed almost impossible. There was nothing to bind the branches with, and the only thing holding them together at all was dirt. The snowy, damp earth barely held the roof, but another exhausting factor was that he had to hold it in place until it dried. Let go a second too soon — the dirt fell in his face. Hold on a moment too long — his hand stuck to the branches, and as soon as he pulled it away, the whole structure collapsed.
After long and grueling torment, he finally managed to finish half a roof. It was just under a meter wide, but it was enough to provide some shelter from the snow.
With an empty stomach and a drained mind, Verd felt sleep pulling him down after this work. He settled comfortably under his new roof and closed his eyes.
'Nothing will happen if I take a nap.'
No sooner had he lain down and closed his eyes than his consciousness sank into sleep, giving his body a chance to rest.
***
Verd had a dream. A gloomy, dark place, devoid of any light. An abyss. There was no other word for it. He moved forward, but not of his own will — because his body was acting on its own. The moment he tried to move a hand or his head, he seemed to encounter a colossal force binding his limbs. All of this led him to a chalice.
In appearance, it was an ordinary chalice, the kind that nobles might use. It was forged from the purest ruby, in which Verd could see his own reflection — a reflection that did not exist in this world. The bowl itself and the stem were adorned with golden patterns, with holes visible here and there. There were thirteen in total: six heart-shaped and six star-shaped.
The remaining hole drew particular attention — a simple, round one. Beneath it rested a falling ostrich feather. An interesting detail: an ouroboros — a snake devouring its own tail — coiled around both the feather and the hole. Verd immediately tried to make sense of what he saw, but the flow of thoughts was completely absent. In this place, his consciousness was both present and absent at the same time. He could be both emptiness and himself. And suddenly, he managed to formulate a thought — but only because he was abruptly awakened by a noise on the island.
Verd sprang up, grabbed his blade, and hid behind a tree. Fully awake, he peered out and saw a gigantic bird. In appearance, it resembled an ordinary bird, only much larger. And at the same time, very unusual.
Its body was covered in icy feathers, and its head somewhat resembled a lizard's. Instead of the usual red color inside its mouth, it had something blue. In places, it even shimmered with purple, just like the color of its eyes. On its head sat a tall white crest that continued all the way down to its chin, where a solid, scythe-like structure protruded.
The bird was in no hurry, cautiously pecking at the ground as if searching for something. But it was slowly moving toward Verd.
Verd took a deep breath, pressing the blade to his chest, and thought:
'Well... this is it for me...'