"The Strength Within" by Suzanne Collins

The creature waited. It had waited ever since the mighty King Trefa had died and invoked it to guard his powerful magic sword with which he had conquered thousands. It waited for the ones who one day would dare to challenge its strength and anger, the two who had been foretold to come and endeavour to defeat it and restore the sword to the land.

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It was nearing midnight when the young woman entered the small village. She had sneaked past the sleeping guards at the gate and made her way into the main street. She knew what she had to do. The task that had been laid on her by her father was a demanding one, but she knew that she mustn't fail him.

There were rarely any lamps burning in the street; this was to deter passing strangers, and make them think that there was nothing there but rolling hills. At night it was usually pitch black, but this night the moon shone down and cast an eerie glow. Sherne had brought a small lantern anyway. It hung simply round her waist, casting a faint glow, just enough so that it wouldn't disturb the inhabitants. Anyone who was still awake, which was very unusual at this time of night, would think that she was one of the poor, searching for a suitable place to sleep. This suited her very well, as she could go about her business with no suspicion falling on her silent shadow flitting from door to door. Even under the safety of night though, she still prayed that she hadn't been seen. Quickly and quietly she make her way to the small fountain in the centre of the village, the place for young lovers and where people could meet in private without anyone overhearing inportant conversations.

When Sherne reached the fountain she sat on its cool edge and waited, the silence and the darkness of the night inpenetrably black. She did not see the silent figure standing just to her left, watching her as the lantern gave off a small glow, which lit up her face and gave her an eerie luminescence.

Even if she had known that someone had been following her as soon as she entered the wrought iron gates of the village, she would not have been surprised. The reason she had gone and sat by the fountain was that she was meeting someone important.

Silently, the figure crept around the corner and stealthily made his way over to the fountain. He allowed the girl to see him so that she wouldn't be startled when he came out of the shadows. Her face lit up when she saw who it was, both in recognition and relief that it wasn't one of the guards at the gate, come to see who she was.

"You're late", the man said.

"I just arrived, I couldn't help it. Father delayed me with all his 'goodbyes' and 'take cares'." She laughed as she said this; her father had never been one to worry about his two children, but this time was an exception. The road that lay ahead was treacherous and uncertain even to her father, who had spoken to the ancient gods of the world to determine the outcome of the quest. The gods would not reveal to him the fate of his son or daughter. They had only given him a dream to follow. The outcome depended on Sherne, his only daughter who was just sixteen, and his son, Sefon, nineteen. Only these two had any hope of defeating the creature within the mountains and regaining the sword and returning it to the people; the sword that had been lost to the world thousands of years ago. They had the magic that was sufficient to destroy such a powerful thing. The only problem was that neither of them knew just what it was that guarded the sword.

Sherne would never have agreed to go on this quest if it hadn't been for her brother Sefon. Their father had been adamant that they follow the rules of his dream, which had seemed to depict every step of their journey, though unclear and vague. Sherne had doubted that the dream was real; she had always thought of the legend of the sword as a fairytale. It was her brother's brave and curious nature that made him want to discover once and for all if it was true. 'Think of the glory that would befall our family if we did this!' were his enthusiastic words of encouragement.

Sefon said nothing, breathing in the cool night air. Soon they would have to make their way into the mountain. The path was already mapped out and the entrance clear. They made their way around the fountain and into the darkness blanketing the village. The mountain loomed ominously up ahead; a stark outline against the glare of the moon. A slight breeze ruffled their hair. Sherne shivered, and Sefon drew her under his cloak. They walked ever nearer, their footsteps resonating faintly on the cobbled streets.

Suddenly they were there; the village passed away behind them and they found themselves standing at the foot of a great gateway. There were no guards but they were both wary as they stepped over the threshold into the icy blackness. At this point they were grateful for Sherne's feeble light, but it sent shadows leaping about and brought alive their vivid imaginations. Everywhere they stepped, they had the feeling that there was something following them with its eyes, glaring at them from out of the shadows.

The silence grew intense, and smothered them in a fear that one loud noise could bring about their downfall. Warily, they followed the passage for miles, growing weary and impatient. They stopped to rest at one point and Sherne and Sefon exchanged tired glances, filled with apprehension and fear. Neither said a word, lost in thier own thoughts of what was to come.

When they started off again, they rounded a few corners and both sensed that they were near their goal. Suddenly the passage ended at a solid stone wall. They halted, confused. Had they taken a wrong turning somewhere? In the darkness it would have been easy to miss an opening in the rock. Sefon raised his arms and muttered a spell of opening under his breath. The stone reluctantly responded, grating against the floor with a screech that they both recoiled from. Sefon inspected his work, but the spell had not been sufficient; the wall had only moved a couple of centimetres inwards, letting a sliver of pale light escape from beyond. He was terrified of what they were going to find. He looked at Sherne and guessed what she was thinking. Holding hands they both began to say the spell repeatedly. Slowly but surely the stone began to give way, opening an inch at a time. Soon there was a gap big enough for them to slip through.

Inside the great cavern they had entered there stood a massive monolith in the centre, reaching up to the ceiling high above. Lying just to one side, propped up against the stone, sat a sword. It was the biggest sword they had ever seen, easily taller than Sefon, who was no dwarf. The hilt was emblazoned with a gleaming five-pointed star and the blade was polished and bright. There was no scabbard to be seen. There was nothing else in the cave, but Sherne and Sefon stared around them in awe. Their gazes were soon turned however, to the creature emerging from the shadows at the far end of the cave. It was huge, almost as tall as the middle of the colossal pillar. It had two massive horns emerging horizontally from its forehead and two large pointed teeth that jutted out from the lower jaw of its snarling mouth. A humped back reached up taller than its head and sported a crest of blue hair. There was a hideous ring through its nostrils and beady red eyes watched their every move. Its sinewy body was hunched down and the two hands and feet ended in sharp claws. It thundered towards them, bellowing in rage. Its voice sounded like stone grating on stone, a shrill shriek that rent the air and echoed tenfold around the massive chamber. They held their hands up over their ears, afraid that they would eventually go deaf from the roaring echoes.

It was Sefon who moved first. He stepped further into the cavern and brought his arms up above his head. A ball of blazing purple light appeared, summoned from the deepest part of his being, a little taste of his fiery soul. He gave a loud shout of challenge, and Sherne, spurred on by his show of courage joined him, adding a ball of wicked green light to his purple one. The two intermingled and became one. The heat was overpowering and together they sent it careening into the monster rapidly advancing on them. It hit with a crunch, and bits of its fur ignited, sending it into an angry frenzy in which it seemed to gain strength. They sent another combined ball of fire into it and this time hit it in the head and sent it reeling backwards. As long as they could keep it away long enough for them to reach the sword they would succeed in their mission.

Taking advantage of the monster"s momentary confusion, Sherne left Sefon and raced across to where the sword stood. Scooping it up into her arms she was immediately pulled down by its weight. She quickly said a spell to make it bearable and hurried back to where Sefon was struggling to keep the creature at bay. Then, summoning up his last dregs of strength he sent a much larger ball at the monster and yelled in triumph as it burst into flame and was devoured before their very eyes. Wearily, Sefon turned to face Sherne and by the look on her face, found that they were both thinking the same thing. If the creature had been placed here to guard the sword, surely it would have put up a bigger fight, maybe have some magic of its own.

Neither of them could understand it until they felt the rush of icy cold air swirling about them. It seemed to wrap itself around them, squeezing the breath from their lungs. Sherne gasped in fear and dropped the sword with a clang on the floor. Sefon was experiencing the same problem; he found it increasingly difficult to breathe and his breath was coming in short gasps. They were both horrified at the thought: this was the mountain's secret weapon! Kill the beast and only its spirit would be left, left to finish them off. They could never have anticipated its real intention.

They could sense the fury that was whirling around them, a hatred of their magic. They knew then that that was the key to finishing the thing. They both summoned their power together and sent it hurtling into the cloudy form. It recoiled and let out a piercing wail. As a final act of strength, it completely overpowered Sefon and he collapsed onto his knees, wheezing in pain. The mist seemed to coalesce around him, consuming him hungrily. Then the mist was gone, but Sefon remained. He was disfigured and doubled over, and as Sherne watched in horror, he began to transform. A few moments later, it was no longer her brother that stood before her, but a monster, identical to that which they had just defeated.

Sherne stood where she was, transfixed by fear. She was too weak to defend herself alone. The monster that was Sefon roared with rage and advanced towards her. A few metres away it stopped and raised one of its great hands as though in farewell. Then it turned around and sauntered back to the dark opening from whence its predecessor had come.

"Sefon!" Sherne cried, collapsing to the floor in despair. There was no answer. She lay there for a long while before she found the energy to walk back into the world of sadness that awaited her. She left the accursed sword where it would never be found again.

The thing that had been Sefon watched her go with a howl of pain.