I close the book I was reading and walk back to the counter. With a flirty smile, I hand it to the woman standing behind. She takes the book and returns the smile in kind, receptive to my dorkiness for some reason.

  As I am making my way out of the library, humming a happy tune, something catches my eye. I regard the oddity for a moment, and when it seems interesting enough, I approach, standing in the back of the modest crowd that’s gathered.

  “Now, children, what tale shall I tell today?”

  A cacophony of excited voices give their recommendations, and some give their demands.

  “Hmm... That’s a lot of stories to tell. If only I had a little bit of help...”

  The gathered children burst into laughter.

  “Where did you crawl out of, you ruffian! Come back here!”

  “Ha! Try and catch me if you can!”

  As the two tumble to the floor in a tangled heap, the laughter threatens to escape the confines of the building and spill out on the streets.

  “Fine... You win. But I get to choose.”

  The children groan in frustration, with just a single boy clapping happily.

  “Okay. Make your choice.”

  “How about the time we journeyed inside that frenzied bramble.”

  “Again? You really love that one, don’t you? Maybe something else.”

  The audience gasps in protest immediately. Shouts that indicate the story is entirely novel can be heard throughout.

  “Really? I could have sworn we’ve told that one before...”

  “Maybe you’ve been in one too many dungeons. Right, kids?”

  An affirming answer is the united response.

  “Simmer down, simmer down. I’ll tell it. But... a good story needs a good title... I know! ‘The Demon King Versus The Living Forest’.”

  Groans echo out, disagreeing with the greatness of the not-so-newly crafted name.

  “I’m with them on this one.”

  “Are you sure you came from my own two feet?”

  “Maybe you came from mine.”

  “Whatever, you ruffian. Let’s get to it.”

  Shadows dance around the room, drinking in the light of day. In front of the two, a miniature gate of twisting darkness rises from the floor. One of them shrinks down to match its scale.

  “The brave, and dashingly handsome,”—more groans—“demon king stepped toward the crimson abyss. He knew not fear, nor surrender, for at his back, there were those he cared for most.”

  The miniature demon king cartwheels inside.

  Shadowy forms grow around the perimeter of the dedicated nook, adding to the ambiance and keeping in the sound somewhat. Trees and shrub, dense and prickly.

  “No care for lawn maintenance.”

  “Ahem. The demon king found himself in a brand-new world.” The miniature demon king is standing in knee-high grass, thick and sharp, surrounded by more wild vegetation. “It wasn’t like the forests here. The air was so humid and hot it was suffocating, making each breath a labored task.” The miniature demon king starts frolicking through the landscape as it spins under his feet, keeping him centered. “Even with just that, this quest was shaping up to be one of the most arduous he has been on. But as we all know, dungeons are a home to many things.”

  “Ooh, an apple!”

  The miniature demon king is standing on his tippy toes trying to reach a glossy yet shadowy apple. His finger brushes against the fruit, making it sway on the branch. Roots erupt from the ground and wrap themselves around the hungry monarch.

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  The roots squeeze.

  The children gasp in shock, some averting their eyes.

  “Don’t be so delicious next time.”

  A miniature demon king crunches on the freshly-picked apple. The tree that used the subterranean attack is squeezing a squirming shadow. He takes another bite. The captured shadow elongates and then spins, forming a multitude of connected discs, each one cutting at the roots with ease. The now free shadow spins once more, the discs enlarging and turning the tree into firewood.

  The other trees around him start shaking ominously.

  “Better skedaddle.”

  Shadows consume his form and drop him somewhere else, the constructed scene changing in an instant. Though the change is minimal, still a vast and wild forest.

  “Now, what ever should I do?” He snaps his fingers. “I know!” He raises his hand and blasts fire at the plants around. “That should draw out the big boys.”

  It does.

  “An onslaught of monsters undiscovered made way for the demon king. Big and small.”

  Gigantic monstrosities of cellulose, nearly as tall as some of the children, regenerate faster than the miniature demon king can hurt them. Clouds of tiny plants try to bite his skin and inject their deadly venom.

  The battle continues on, with the demon king narrating the actions and the miniature one voicing his thoughts. But he gains no advantage, shows no progress toward a victory. He only grows more and more tired.

  A thorn embeds inside the tiny demon’s chest, pumping foul ichor into his body. He falls to his knees, the forest holding its breath before its final assault. And that assault soon comes, as the writhing mass of vegetation rises up like a cresting wave, intent on submerging the intruder under its gnashing and gnawing surface.

  Shouts of utmost encouragement ring out. One wouldn’t be faulted for believing that the demon king was currently in genuine peril. As if hearing the cries, the miniature demon king plants his fist into the ground with a snarl. He staggers to his feet again, wobbling once, and twice, but then, he steadies.

  “Shadow Theatre: Those That Came Before Me.”

  A flare of power descends upon the room, putting thrill on the face of everyone present.

  Like droplets falling down from nowhere, shadows rain on the miniaturized scene. As each one impacts the ground, it explodes into a figure. Each one distinct. Each one carrying... something more within.

  One of the figures lifts a hand, unleashing liquid shadows in a torrent, though that appearance’s only due to the limitation of the current medium. Whatever the liquid shadow touches, it sizzles and burns, releasing thick vapors, and leaving a degraded mess behind.

  Another creates a brilliant flame, the shadows nearly shining, igniting the wave of enemies like bone-dry kindling.

  A third places a hand on the terribly wounded demon king, their healing touch snapping shut the child-friendly boo-boos. Missing limbs are probably reserved for later showings.

  “The Living Forest posed a great challenge for the demon king. But with those that came before him standing by his side, any challenge could be overcome. ...Or could it?”

  The smaller demon shakes his head in exasperation while gesturing accusingly at the bigger one.

  “Why’d you have to go and say that?”

  Burned vegetation bubbles up, regrowing anew. Monsters voraciously draw moisture and nutrients from the soil, from snaking organic pipes, from the dead.

  The shadowy army slowly and painfully advances, tracking the feeding tendrils to their source, paying a heavy cost for each step taken. When they reach the apparent center of the forest, half of the soldiers are gone. Crushed under spiked bodies, eaten by sharp maws, pumped full of vile toxins.

  In an uncharacteristic clearing is a kneeling figure, legs daintily folded under its frail form, flowers blooming from its long hair swirled around in a fantastical pattern. Eyes flutter to the barbarians invading its home.

  It averts its gaze with disinterest, the simple movement causing another consuming wave of organic matter. The remaining shadow warriors attempt to repel the attack. They fail, drowned under the flood.

  “When all is lost and darkness fills your vision, remember one thing, that darkness is only there because light still remains to cast it—the imperishable light inside of you.”

  “Eclipse.”

  The Driad Queen wordlessly moves its lips, its unsaid words understandable only to me, “You speak of balance, little monarch, yet strife fills your very being. Grovel at my feet and I will bless you with what you seek.” The boss makes another disinterested gesture when the mini demon doesn’t reply. The figure appears stunned, waving again with much more force. It soundlessly hisses out, “What have you done?”

  “Didn’t they teach you this in royalty school? You gotta know how to get down and dirty.”

  Small knuckles are audibly cracked. What follows is a brawl decided by pure willpower. Shifted to the comical for the audience, of course.

  A victorious Demon King is standing before a withering Driad Queen.

  The monster’s final words are once again for naught. “You might have won, Demon Lord, but that strife will eat you from within. And you will one day fall. Like so many before you.” A silent laugh fades along with its life.

  “Bla bla bla.”

  The miniature demon king elbow drops a core that popped up.

  Now outside, he takes a bow to giddy cheers, enlarging to normal at the same time.

  “Best idea for what to do with the crystal gets to keep the item.”

  “What?”

  Numerous voices mix into an undecipherable mess as the two are swarmed by their toughest opponents yet.

  “He’s joking.” The other one steps into the first one’s shadow and sinks in. “Don’t leave me, you traitor!” Xyll is getting pulled in twenty different directions. “Ow! Not the hair! How’d you get on my back so fast?” He takes a fake tumble. “Help!” His form is soon lost under the pile of eager inventors.

  As I walk away, smiling at the endearing scene still visible to me, I hear a suggestion about a sword that can stick things together instead of cutting them apart. ...I’m gonna write that one down.