The Evernon Saga: Journey Of Ascension, A Struggle For Godhood

With his haul in tow and a howl of regret at his back, William felt like a man worth all the riches in the world. Taking a peek into his makeshift shirt-sack, a smirk crossed his face. He still had a lot of value on his person, and nothing in the market should exceed his budget.

Except for…

William craned his neck, scrutinizing the Trade Fair for the whereabouts of Rodney.

The owner of such a tough stick would be even tougher to bargain with, he reckoned.

Glancing down at his sack, he knew that despite the brilliance of his crystal-lined rock, the practicality of a champion-class stick was unmatched. Such a stick could be used in most of their games and all of their fights. A rock could not. No matter how grandiose its appearance, that fact would remain.

Wailing, high-pitched despair shattered his train of thought.

"AHHHHHHH, MY FINGER!"

One of the newest in their bunch, fled with all the haste and panic of a startled rabbit. He was a boy who had seen no more than seven winters, far too young and naive to predict the lick of a clam. In truth, so was everyone in their group.

Clayton's voice emerged amidst a small, clamouring crowd around him.

"I told ya' not to poke at it too much," he shrugged, "But noooo, you lot just had ta' keep on poking."

However, despite his warnings the kids continued to trifle with the menacing existence of the clam. Muffling his chuckle with his new scarf, William strolled over to watch the suffering at hand.

The clam's tongue waged war on the fingers of the infuriating children that violated it. It became apparent that the clam was no stranger to battle, its strategy remarkable. Between the fleshy barrages its impenetrable shell withstood, its tongue flicked out with speed surpassing their expectations.

Unfortunately, they were far from ȧduŀts.

"Hey-ho Clayton, have ya' traded anythin'?" asked William, waving leisurely.

Eyes wide, Clayton rose from his one-kneed crouch. "I gave away the buŧŧons for a few seeds, might give 'em to Aaron after, if he wants 'em."

Faking surprise, William snorted. "Awfully generous of you, are you sure you're not a kindly old man?"

Clayton ran his fingers through the black, curly mess of hair on his head, scratching deeply. He glanced at William's new articles with a glint in his eyes. Eyes of so light a blue that at first glance, they were often mistaken for grey.

Clayton bore a half-smile. "Seems like ya' got yourself a good haul there. Who'd ya' swindle?"

"Jack," replied William, loosening his new scarf and fanning himself with a hand. "He didn't take too kindly ta' bein' tricked."

"I can see that," said Clayton, looking over William's shoulder. "He's packin' up and goin' off all shaky-like."

"Whatever, I'll gift 'im somethin' next week ta' make up for it."

He leaned forward and whispered to William in hushed tones. "I hadn't even mentioned tha' devil yet and she appeared. Brace yerself, William."

"The what?"

Shrouding him in darkness, a towering figure came to a stop behind William.

He visibly cringed upon seeing who it was, his body shrinking in on itself.

"So... I'm the devil, huh?" grumbled a young woman. "That's some mighty big talk, fer a sprout like yerself!"

Two sets of knuckles ground themselves into the sides of William's head. Eyes scrunched and teeth bȧrėd, agony creased his features. His hands fumbled futilely at the wrists of his torturer.

"Ser-Aaaaaah!" he cried out. "Stoppit!"

"Hmmm?" hummed the woman sarcastically. "That doesn't sound like an apology ta' me!"

Clayton let out a pitiful, tone-deaf attempt at a whistle. "As usual, yer sister sure is sumthin', William."

"S-stop, Sera!" whɨnėd William.

Sera cackled ċȯċkily. "Ya' still haven't apologized!"

"But I didn't say nothin'!"

The pain ceased, and William's hesitant eyes opened. What greeted him was the maniacal grin of his older sister, Sera. She stood proud, hands rooted to her hɨps and nose turned to the sky.

Those rooted hands slid down to the bottom of her mid-thigh sundress, fiddling with and swaying the white, unsullied fabric. A warm, tender smile graced her previously harsh features. "I know, I jus' wanted ta' make ya' squirm!"

William's hands nursed the pulsing hearts of pain on either side of his skull, his vision turned upwards to his sister with a distorted lens of tears. "You come back afta' half a year, an' the first thing ya' do is hurt me…"

"Whaaat, me?" exclaimed Sera incredulously. "I only greeted you properly, with all of my sisterly love!"

William could only stare with a deadpan expression that said, 'Really?'

"Didja want ta' bring me back for sumthin'?" queried William.

"But… but…" he trailed off, unwilling to halt his shopping spree.

"No buts, you're comin' with me, lil' mister!"

With that, his wrist was captured, being dragged along with the rest of him. Despite his futile protests, her vise grip was inescapable for him. With a new hat on his head and scarf around his neck, William could only bite his tongue to stifle his greed for more. For now.

The last thing he saw… was Clayton, a dear friend of his…

Sticking out his tongue in his direction.