It was a droughty day in Treeville. I realized this as I stepped out of the cabin I'd been put in, the sun baking my face the second I exited the wood home.

Mayor Con was standing over the balcony that overlooked the village. He hardly took notice of my presence, and when he did, he turned around and said, "Hello, Dylan."

"Hi, Con," I said. Joining him as he leaned against the rim of the balcony. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

He had a very serious look on his scarred face, more serious than usual.

"I don't know how to approach it exactly," he said. "But..."

He paused and looked up at the sky as though this would say his words for him. Of course it didn't.

"...Dylan, I have reason to believe that the giant attack is in relation to the Purple Storm," his words came as smoothly as they possibly could. "Such an ambush would not happen if it didn't have association to such a despicable topic."

I had to suppress a gasp at this. Was he crazy?! The Purple Storm had hardly even been regarded for ages, and now he was just assuming the giant incident this morning was caused by the Purple Storm? I didn't even know what to say...

Anxiety filled my body at these mere words. Anything involving the Purple Storm was more than scary to me, it was petrifying.

"...How can you be so sure?" I asked him. "The Purple Storm happened years ago. The banishing of the Realm had been issued since. So how can you possible think they were sent—"

"They weren't sent," said Con. "They didn't come from the Realm. They were... created. Into existence."

I couldn't hold back a gasp now.

"But that's impossible!" I exclaimed in horror. "Then that could only mean one thing... That..."

"I know," the Mayor looked up at the sky again, more anxious this time. Memories of the Storm seemed to be coming back to him, flowing rapidly in his blood and veins. "I don't want to believe it either. But we have to assume the worst, Dylan. It's a cruel world now."

"You don't mean you really think—"

"I don't think. Ever. I just know," said Con. "I always know."

He seemed a bit unsure of this himself, as though he knew it weren't true. Even then, being so assuming as such was not a smart choice. We couldn't risk investigating something that wasn't worthwhile, especially a topic as vile and infamous as the Purple Storm.

My crippling anxiety only worsened. I felt a little uneasy now, leaning against the wooden rim, so I removed myself from it and was now just standing on the wooden floor. Stairs faced me, leading down to the village. I was rather anxious because of this, for some strange and inexplicable reason.

No, it wasn't strange and inexplicable. I knew the reason why. I just didn't want to accept it. But I had to. I had to accept it: the giant attack was indeed related to the Purple Storm. But more importantly, it was related to the Earthers.

"You know what?" I said. "I agree. I also think it has something to do with the Storm. But I'll get to the bottom of it, and anyway I have a quest to destroy the Crooked Realm. I'm sure—"

"Again, this isn't about the Crooked Realm," Con removed himself from the edge as well so that he could face me. "This is about... Well, I'm sure you know. The only people that can simply create things. But who would truly betray the Limitation Act?"

I shook my head. "It can't be. The Earthlanders are the nicest people from what I've read. They would never cause an ambush as such, ever. Right?"

I needed confirmation for myself. Sadly, I didn't get it, but instead got a shake of the head from Mayor Con, indicating that even he was losing hope and slowly slipping into the clutches of despair, exactly what the Purple Storm did to everyone all those years ago.

As a kid, I had to live through it. Everybody was much older than me and Targan, who hid in a cave. Everyone was worried sick after they couldn't find him, but then he turned up again.

The Purple Storm caused everybody to go crazy. The whole world. The Purple Storm is what made the Crooked Realm the way it is today. It used to be the Glorious Realm, but that was before King Evarelius used all the power of his Shadow Element and made the tempest that was dubbed the Purple Storm. It was giant deluge that took over the world, as it was everywhere from the Airlands to the Firelands.

It wasn't just any normal storm. It was deathly and brutal and practically unending. It went on for days and days and didn't stop. If you were caught in it, you would be killed by its magical properties. It could zap you in a matter of seconds, even your hand if it was stuck out to the rain. Should I even call it rain? It was hellfire, more like. To the skin, it burned painfully. Even the most professional and skilled healing Magicks couldn't cure the people struck by the Storm. It was just that powerful.

Then came the Life King. He sacrificed himself to free the world of its joy deprivation caused by the Purple Storm. Indeed, the skies were no longer deep violets and the sky didn't leak hell anymore. The world was—somewhat—normal again.

But there was the fact the originator and ruler of the Earthlanders, the Life King Aspen, was dead. Though he was a Sage, his Mystic couldn't save him and he was murdered by the raging downpour.

His power lived on, though, and eradicated the Storm completely. Such rain hadn't been seen in thirteen years. I was six when this happened. It's how my grandfather, Frank Castro, died. It's how my whole world changed and slowly fell apart.

This was the Purple Storm. The ruthless, forbidding Purple Storm. After it was discovered that the Cosmet Kingdom's ruler had been the creator of such a tempest, he was forced to create a floating castle that forbade any sort of entry unless one was allowed by the appointed Evarelius himself. What a coward, I say. He should just accept his death and be decapitated by his own pillory. He deserves it, after what he did.

My boiling hatred turned into sorrow overtime. I became depressed as a teenager without Grandpa. So much of my life had been unseen by him, and so much of it lived without him. There was only six years I'd spent with him, the best six years of my life.

Now, I resent the Purple Storm, more than anything. It's why I decided to accept my quest from King Richard. So I can destroy the foul and unworthy remains of the Crooked Realm, and for good at that.

But even now, I truly couldn't accept the fact that the own people of the guy that sacrificed his life for the world would turn their backs on us and try to destroy a little town. Were they maybe jealous of the Golden Tree? No, no. That couldn't be it. Or else they wouldn't have a giant pick it up and send it flying. Not if they wanted it for themselves. It was something else...

...But what?

"It is rather disconcerting, yes," said Con. "But, again, we have to assume the worst. I get the feeling that they don't like you, and want you dead. Maybe they found out your location, here, and tried to get rid of you then."

"But why?" I asked. "What did I ever do to them?"

"That much is unclear," the Mayor crossed back into the cottage and I didn't need much beckoning to understand that he wanted me to follow him. "But I've found something. It seemed to have dropped from one of the giants."

He pulled an item out of a wooden drawer. A small piece of paper.

"Read it," Con handed it to me.

The parchment read:

It is getting closer, and that peculiar thing is causing it. You and four other giants have been sent to do what your heart desires to the woody town known as Treeville. Directions will be listed in a separate note.

-R.V.

"Who's RV?" I asked. Con shrugged.

"But it is sort of clear what the message means," said the Mayor. "They want you dead. That peculiar thing can only be you. They think you're making the Crooked Realm come closer. You have many admirers, Dylan, but you also have many despisers. You can't be led astray by their words, though. You must continue with your quest. It is the Foreteller's prophecy, after all. Your destiny."

I wasn't led astray. I was mad. Why where they coming for me because they thought I was the causing the Crooked Realm to get closer to the Earthlands? How could that even be? None of it made sense, at all.

And so they were trying to bring back the Purple Storm. Or maybe that wasn't their plan, but it seemed to be something along the lines of that. That was completely insane! Sure, I was the Chosen One and people were to have a sort of hatred toward me, I suppose, but making another Storm?! That was just beyond bizarre to me.

"Right," I said. "My destiny."

Con seemed to have a worried look on his distorted face. He put a hand on my shoulder.

"Listen," he said reassuringly, "you will destroy the Crooked Realm. And when you do, they are going to realize how foolish they were for even thinking about creating another Purple Storm. All that you, Dylan, need to focus on is the quest itself, and finishing it. I'm sure you will you know the way when it comes to you."

His word were doubtless and true, yes, but it still didn't help the weightless pit in my stomach, full of dread and fear. I was more afraid than anything, and I wasn't ashamed of it either. I had every right to be scared, to be worried, to be frustrated. The entire earth seemed to be against me—literally! And no amount of encouragement and reassurance could change or help my case.

Before he exited the cabin, Mayor Con told me I could sleep in it for the night and continue my journey tomorrow. I agreed to this and he left. It was just me in the cabin now. Anxious, agitated me.

•••

I could hardly sleep that night. It was okay, though, because Willow rapped on the cabin door and stepped inside. She had a bright and mischievous smile on her face. She'd probably played a prank on Old Man Gus or something like that.

She crossed over to me and sat on my bed. I was laying down but I got up and sat next to her, kicking my legs into the air. I was wearing a coat she'd given me days ago, and some soft pants her father had provided me with. She was also wearing a coat, a magenta one.

"Hey," she said, still smirking.

"Hi," I told her. "What's up with you, why so happy?"

"What, I can't be glad?!" She questioned.

We both laughed.

"Oh, it's nothing..." she looked anywhere but at me, clearly blushing even though her face was turned away from me.

"What?" I asked her.

"Oh, fine..." she giggled. "I may have just landed a date with a really cute boy. He works in the farm and sells crops. His name is Markus."

My heart plummeted into my abdomen, doing twists and twirls as it went. Why had it performed such an action?

"Oh," I said. "That's...cool!"

"Yeah, it's really..." she said but her voice trailed off when she stared at me. Her blushing went away. "Are you okay?"

I had turned away, arms crossed. Why was I so mad about this, when I should have been happy? Willow had always blabbered on about wanting a boyfriend, especially a farmer. So I should've been glad and proud of her, not angry.

And yet, my stomach sank as did my heart and I was just so irate, and for no reason. Or maybe there was a reason, too deep and hidden within me... Or maybe it wasn't that deep, but I just didn't want to say it out loud and let my fury unleash.

"Yeah," I said. "Just a little sad that this will be our last night together. I'm leaving tomorrow."

And though I spoke this, even I couldn't convince myself that this was why I was so upset. There was another reason...

"Oh..." Willow stared off into space. A single tear ran down her face. "Right. Oh, Dylan..."

She hugged me tight.

"I'm so sorry... But hey, we're all going miss you lots. We'll keep you in our prayers and all," she patted my shoulder, the same as her father had done. "That's not all, is it?"

I knew she wasn't an idiot. She was Willow Aspen. Clever, intuitive Willow Aspen. And she always knew when something was up, like she could just sniff it and instantly know when you weren't feeling alright.

"Oh, that's all," I said. "We were really good friends, Willow. I'm going to miss you so much. Too much."

She hugged me again and said, "Me too. But hey, friends forever, right?"

Friends. That word stuck with me for some reason, rang through my head endlessly. It almost gave me a migraine. Friends.

"Yep," I said. "Friends. Forever."

I was hoping she hadn't noticed the pause I put between the words. I was still phased by what she'd said for some reason.

Get over it, I thought. As long as she's happy, right?

So that's why I was mad. I liked Willow. And I thought too much that she felt that same way that I had almost thunk it into existence. I had my hopes up way too high.

But that wasn't who the Chosen One was. More importantly, that wasn't who Dylan Castro was. The Chosen One was chivalrous. Dylan Castro was humble. Together, they made a guy who was meant to be overjoyed at his friend's revelation.

"Well, I've got to go," said Willow. "See you tomorrow before you leave?"

"Yes," I said. "See you, Willow."

"Bye, Dylan," she waved a hand at me.

I waved back, hoping she'd seen it.

She closed the door and I groaned. She found a lover, one she seemed to be more than just at peak excitement with. And yet, I hated that. I hated the fact that she wasn't in love with me, tipping over the brim with thrill over me. I was... well, a little jealous.

But Willow was just a friend. I knew that from the start. She was just a friend, a good friend, too. Like Emma. Like every girl I'd ever interacted with in my life...

I sighed and laid back down, praying that by morning I wouldn't be picked up again and chucked all the way across the Village of the Trees.

I closed my eyes and dozed off to sleep, my last night here in Treeville before I truly began my quest to demolish the Crooked Realm.

And maybe, by chance, I wouldn't be killed by the Purple Storm the same way that Grandpa had been killed.

And maybe again, by chance, I would truly succeed in finishing my quest, and I would truly have destroyed the Realm.

There was only a little possibility of that happening, though.