The Fifth Point
There was no falling. No flying. No floating. Only a breath and – Smack. He hit the cold stone floor of an unfamiliar cave, the book clenched against his chest. The landing knocked the wind from his lungs. He coughed, clutching the book to his chest. When he finally stood, legs shaky, the tome still weighed him down, but it comforted him.
It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the light blaring at him from the torches that illuminated the walls, tight in their sconces. Their shimmer felt off. Everything did. He pressed a hand to his head, checking for damage.
“Well, that sucked.”
Ben stood on shaky legs, still clinging to the book like it might vanish. It had gotten him there. It needed to get him back too.
Ben checked his pockets and found the knife and the medallion. If he had known, he would have brought even more stuff. His dad had swords on the wall downstairs. If only.
He still had the medallion, still had the book—and that meant he still had a job to do. Franklin’s wife was out there. Somewhere in this place. Trapped, like he had been.
The chamber was not a natural cave formation. Someone had taken special care to build the octagonal room with large dark-gray bricks that stood from the floor up. Above him was a vaulted ceiling that was well out of his reach.
Four human statues rested along the edges, each staring at him with a cold gaze that only stone could have.
Upon closer examination, Ben saw that each statue had a different item in its hand—a cup, a sword, a shield, and a torch. Each statue was also aligned to an element of nature.
The man with the cup was knee deep in water, pouring it from his chalice. The stone was moist with condensation.
Adjacent to him was a man with a long sword that pointed toward the sky. His hair and clothing seemed to be windswept.
Next was a woman with a shield and she carried a cloth bag full of sand.
The last, another woman, held a stone torch that lit the chamber.
Each statue had a large unique design carved into the base.
Against the wall behind the statues was a small podium that had a stone book resting on it. It was a stone effigy of the very book Ben held.
He wondered if this was a coincidence or if this was the room that greeted all travelers to this world.
The book itself was opened to a single page that had been etched into the stone. As he opened the book, a sharp breeze hit his face from nowhere.
He turned through the pages until he found the matching image of the one that was before him written in stone. A large pentagram with five symbols marked its points.
Looking back at the statues, he could only surmise that each must have aligned with an element. Five points and only four statues. One was missing.
“What have I gotten myself into?” he asked, closing the book and looking around the chamber.
It took him a while, but after some investigation, he found an entrance that was all but hidden behind another wall. The room created an optical illusion that almost made it impossible to find the escape.
He turned to leave, but something caught his eye. There, around the corner, a person’s boot moved.
“Hello, who’s there?” Ben asked.
As soon as the words left his lips, whoever the booted foot belonged to darted out of the passage.
Ben took off after them, but they were gone.
Outside, breath ragged, Ben found himself in the middle of a dense forest.
Pine trees loomed in every direction, reaching up into a starless sky. To his right, a cliff towered above the trees—and at its summit stood something unbelievable. There, mocking him, was the house he had just left, standing tall and proud.
Before he could question it, something moved in a bush at the corner of his vision.
“Come out! I’ve got a knife!” Ben shouted, fumbling the folded blade with trembling hands.
“Whoa, whoa, okay, I’m sorry,” said a male’s voice.
Out of the shrub came a man wearing dark green cloth pants with black boots and a light red shirt under an obsidian cloak, its hood shaded half his face. Along his belt were many pouches, each contoured to whatever was in them.
“Why did you run?” Ben asked, breathless.
“Didn’t think anyone was in there. Scared the piss outta me,” the man said.
“So, why did you hide?”
“Because I couldn’t outrun you,” he replied, struggling to get up.
The man examined Ben’s jeans and T-shirt and frowned. “Strange clothes for a man.”
“You’re one to talk,” Ben replied.
The hooded man looked surprised by this but didn’t respond. They stood there for a while eye to eye, not saying a word until Ben finally broke the thick silence.
“What’s your name?”
“Miles Strange. Yours?”
He dusted himself off and checked all of his gear.
“That’s… something,” Ben said, barely resisting the obvious joke.
“Yeah, I chose it myself,” he replied, and then fell silent, looking at Ben as if waiting for a response.
“Oh, I’m Ben. Ben Harking. Sorry, I’m not really sure what to make of all of this,” Ben said.
“All of what?” he asked.
Ben shook his head. “Never mind. What were you doing in that cave?” he asked.
He didn’t trust the man. His arms tightened around the book without meaning to, showing just how valuable it was.
“Treasure hunting. Did you find that book there?” Miles asked, stepping closer to examine it.
“No, it’s mine,” Ben spat.
There was a brief moment of silence again before Miles relented and backed off.
“Didn’t look like anything good was left in there anyway. I’m off. Maybe I’ll see you around,” he said, turning his back to Ben and leaving with a simple wave.
Ben stood there, watching as he disappeared without a sound into the forest.
“Wait! Maybe we can travel together?” Ben yelled belatedly, but received no reply.
Ben smirked. “Well… that was strange.”
With the distraction gone, he focused his attention on the matter at hand—getting back up to the house and figuring out what to do next.
Things weren’t the same anymore, which was obvious, but the problem now was getting it all sorted out.
Looking at the book, he decided that it was best not to open it again. He needed to get somewhere safe. He had a feeling that people might want the power it held. Just by seeing the look Miles gave it was enough to tell him this.
Ben stood there for a while, trying to figure out how to get back up to the house. After a few moments of indecision, he got frustrated with himself for stalling and started walking in the direction he was facing.
The forest unsettled him at first, but the moonlit sky lit his way. He expected animals or some sound, anything. But found none. That didn’t disappoint him.
The pine forest was cleaner than he had expected. He walked on a bed of pine straw with little resistance from downed limbs or overgrown brush.
Less than an hour in, his feet were already aching, each step a protest. The house still loomed overhead peering down at him through the trees, but no path led up there.
He sat on a log, thinking about everything that had happened so far. He remembered the fear he felt before he jumped and the pain of the fire against his hand.
Everything he’d endured already started to reshape him. The day’s trials had already begun to reshape him… into something more.
There was no turning back.
Onward, he thought.
