Illusion of Gravity

The haze creeps around him. He looks down and loses sight of the "hops" that had glown previously… He saw the moment they reverted to nothingness and watches as the grass at his feet loses it's lushness, and crunches under the weight of his gait.

Looking up, he's met with his reflection, just before the dusty clouds invade his field of vision. They creep in and fill his lungs with sediment. Monte struggles to keep sight of the earth below him and what's left of the sky above.

Cursing at his previous obliviousness and doubting any means of escape, Monte blindly places his arms in front of him and cautiously steps forward, weary of a sudden edge.

"Your search is meaningless."

The voice fills the stillness. It rings through Monte's ears.

"You're weak." Monte grunts when his foot catches the top of a rock.

The voice continues it's echo, "Not very clear now, is it?"

Monte sees the black hood and he sprints before it gets whisked away and he gets clipped by a tree that took the figure's place.

"Enough!" The brittle trees reverbrate. Monte struggles on where to look, the laughter seems to pipe in everywhere. All at once he charges toward what appears to be a way through the clearing. The laughter follows him.

Monte lengthens his strides and barrels toward the panel of clairty. His force is halted violently when he rams into an invisible pane. He jostles, rendered immovable as the electric current runs through him.

Monte hits the ground with a thud. He rolls over just in time to see a hooded cloak shuffling toward him. And braces when he's firmly kicked over.

"Give it up, Monte. They're too stupid to know what they want."

Monte grunts. Struggles to lift his head.

The hooded cloak continues, "I've been waiting a long time for this." He deposits his foot atop Monte's chest and removes his hood.

Monte already knew. Dreg Lord Hazar.

He has manipulated the environment beneath his feet and under his nose. He's enhanced himself and plotted for years. Agonized over Monte's nature, yearned for total domination by way of haze. If he had it his way, the globe would be swimming in it. Or rather muddled in it.

With Monte out of the way, there's nothing to stop the slow growth of the destructive gloom.

He aches, but that doesn't stop his reach for Dreg Lord's scythe. Dreg Lord Hazar bats him away easily. He raises a hand and a crackling orb blooms between his fingers.

It finds Monte before he can roll clear.

The current seizes him. His limbs lock. His body lifts torn from the earth without ceremony, dangling in the charged air like something already defeated. Hazar turns the orb slowly in his palm and Monte rotates with it, a prisoner inside a humming sphere of light and voltage.

Monte fights it. Every muscle firing at once. None of it matters. The orb holds.

Dreg Lord Hazar flicks his wrist.

Monte goes flying. The clearing cartwheels around him sky, trees, ground, sky until he hits something invisible and stops dead. Suspended. Sealed inside the orb like an insect in amber. He strains against the current. Pushes. Claws. The sphere doesn't give.

Monte grunts, then shouts into the haze — "I won't let you. I'll never let you."

Dreg Lord Hazar laughs and turns his back.

Monte surveys what he can. Picks at the edges of the orb. Gets nowhere.

Then, a hiss from behind. And the distinct, deliberate thumping of several legs.

Monte sighs. "Shit."