The Great Serpent
From somewhere far off, the faintest sound pierced the silence.
The arrow from Thomas’ bow was let loose, only to hit nothing but air.
Thomas had heard a laugh.
Deep and rich, full of mirth. A laugh that carried the weight of ages.
Thomas froze.
Thomas stood in the open field, his breath fogging in front of him. The landscape stretched before him, untouched and undisturbed. His thoughts heavier than the chill air. It was a rare moment of peace after the relentless darkness of the days before. It was unsettling, but the world was holding its breath.
The laughter was not just an echo; it was a summons.
Without thinking, Thomas began to move. The world blurred around him, his footsteps growing faster, his heart pounding. He wasn’t sure why, but he knew he had to follow. The wind stirred, brushing his face with increasing force. The laughter came again—louder, rolling across the landscape, not unlike thunder.
The snow swirled around him. The world itself was reacting to the sound. The laugh was joined by a deep rumble.
The wind howled. Each step was more laborious against the growing gusts. The laugh rang again, closer. He could feel its presence in his chest, a vibration that matched his heartbeat. Through the haze of snow, he saw it—a figure in the distance, cloaked in shadow, with eyes that gleamed like burning embers.
A large man, with a long, white beard, braided with runes, cloaked in a red and midnight blue robe, lined with fur, exuding both warmth yet authority. His staff radiated with power, and with him a horn that felt like the echoes of eternity. He was the king of ancient traditions, and with each boom of laughter, the king of jolly.
The man stood in the midst of the storm, his one-eyed gaze locked upon the horizon, a twisted grin playing across his weathered features. His great spear was raised high, its point crackling with an energy that seemed to distort the very air around him. Lightning emanated from its tip.
Before the man, coiled in the storm’s fury, was a Serpent that seemed as large as the horizon itself. The man laughed as his spear with each hit against the serpent. The serpent’s massive, undulating form slithered through the trees and horizon, its scales glittering like shards of ice. The beast’s eyes glowed with an unnatural light; the ancient hatred between the beast and man burned brighter than any light. The ground trembled beneath Thomas’s feet as they clashed.
With every strike, with every dodge, the weather shifted. The air thickened, turned to freezing mist, then into heavy snowfall. The serpent writhed and struck with terrifying speed, each lash of its tail sending gusts of wind that ripped through the landscape. The world around them seemed to bend and warp with the ferocity of their struggle.
Thomas stood frozen in the storm’s heart, watching in awe as the two titans fought in a dance. The jolly man moved with the grace of a storm, his power shaking the very fabric of the world, while the serpent reared its massive head up, blocking out the sky. The serpent’s great mouth was agape, ready to swallow the earth itself.
The jolly man laughed again, louder now, a thunderous sound that rolled through the snow-laden air. His voice was like the crack of a whip, sharp and commanding. “A mortal?!” he called, his voice rising over the chaos. “This is no place for you! Turn back, before you are consumed!”
Thomas did not turn back. The pull of this scene was too strong. Every part of Thomas screamed to run. But he knew that this was a moment beyond him – there was no where to run to. Mortal hands could do nothing to help, nor to hide, but only to accept.
Thomas knew this was a battle that had to be fought. The laughter of the great titan of a man rang out once more, shaking the heavens themselves.
The storm stopped. The wind died. The snow ceased. In the stillness, Thomas could see the jolly man standing alone, his cloak whipping in the remnants of the storm. The serpent’s form had vanished into the night, slinking back into the void.
The man turned his gaze to Thomas, his one eye glowing with a knowing light. He offered no words. His wizened appearance gave recognition to the mortal who had dared to witness the clash of titans. The man smirked at Thomas.
And then, as if nothing had happened at all, the storm melted away, and the world returned to its quiet, frozen peace.
Thomas stood in the stillness, his heart racing. His breath visible in the air before him.
The world had changed, but it was a change too subtle for the mortal eye to see. The storm had gone, leaving silence, unaware of the battle fought just moments before.
The jolly man laughed just once, but once more, with the laughter echoing through every mountain and valley. And then within a blink, the man was gone.
The view was serene.
For the briefest of moments, Thomas wondered if he had imagined it all.
But the mark clear—the world had shifted.
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