The Obsidian Prison: A Short Story

Finally. It’s midnight.

I look out of my prison windows, only to see a faint outline of trees and mountains, the fog blocking most of my view of the landscape surrounding The Obsidian Prison. The sky is painted a deep shade of azure, while tufts of clouds float freely in the air, as if mocking me for being locked up in this little form of hell. My eyes scan the surroundings, and the only thing I can clearly see is the ring of mountains blocking any chance of escape; the only way out, is through the pass. However, that is easier said than done. From my position in The Obsidian Prison, I can see small figures in the distance; and I know it can only mean one thing: elves.

The elves are the protectors of The Obsidian Prison; or at least that’s what they call themselves. In my mind, they are nothing but vigilantes waiting for their time to rise to power; to make a difference in the supernatural world. That may be the reason to why they are guarding The Obsidian Prison, but as I watch them stand along the rocky pass, I find myself no longer caring. The only thing I care about, is escaping. However, fleeing The Obsidian Prison is nearly impossible, making my chances of leaving this place very slim.

However, because The Obsidian Prison is such a tall tower, the elves don’t feel the need to bar the windows, giving everyone a choice to either stay in the tower and live, or jump out of the window, and die. But not only that, The Obsidian Prison and the mountains surrounding it are being protected by a force field of sorts, which makes everyone’s magic dormant; including mine. The only way to get back my powers, is to escape The Obsidian Prison and to get through the pass. But that may be a bit difficult due to the fact that there are at least five thousand elves protecting this wretched