Kingsman Return

Iylls

It was late into the night but considering that it was the eve of the new year, the night sky was filled with dazzling light that gave one an illusion that it was still daytime.

All around the streets were filled with festive decorations and from the homes of the city's residents came the joyous sounds of laughter and cheers as families sat down together to wait for the coming of the new year.

At a certain park, in a corner where the lights and festive mood did not reach sat a teenage boy all on his lonesome.

In the darkness, the boy could be seen looking around suspiciously and with caution. Making sure one last time that his immediate surroundings were free from any interference, Arran finally got around to examining the box.

The polished surface of the box was decorated with fine grain patterns as well as frescoes and inlaid carvings depicting various wildlife. There was a deer with huge antlers branching out to the skies like a huge sky-reaching tree, and various birds of different species making their nests on its antlers. There were giant lions and sabretooth tigers, woolly mammoths and tiny rodents and all of them could be seen drinking harmoniously from a small stream without any signs of discord.

The stream ran across the entire length of the box like the legendary water of life spawning boundless vegetation and life.

The box was made up of two different kinds of wood which was made in such a way that they were conjoined seamlessly together as if they were carved from a single tree. There were no signs of an opening and it looked like the edges and corners were fused together so tightly with nowhere to insert a key, or depression to make use of.

Looking at the box of such exquisite craftsmanship, Arran could not help but to comment, "the person who crafted this box must be nothing short of a grandmaster in his trade!!"

'if I didn't know better, I would have thought that this box was cut out of a single tree.' Arran thought to himself in appreciation.

'well, I can understand what would give such an impression as the edges are so tightly joined together and it bears a considerable weight which suggests that It may not be hollow inside.'

Usually, when carving a box from wood, the original weight would change since the craftsman would have to hollow out the inside of the wood in order to leave some space inside for storage, but judging from the weight of the box in comparison to its size and the type of material used to craft it, there could only be one of two outcomes. One the box was not hollowed out and as such does not contain a space inside or there was a space inside but it had already been occupied.

'if there is something inside, then the question now would be what is it and how can I get it out?' Arran thought to himself.

Looking at the box closely, Arran was having an indescribable feeling that he had seen this box somewhere before. It was not until he took another look at it again that it finally struck him where he had seen it before.

'Aha!! I knew this box looked very familiar to me' Arran thought excitedly.

Thinking back to when he had first laid eyes on the box in the station, Arran had always felt a sense of familiarity towards this box, that along with an intense sense of longing. a longing he always felt whenever his parents told him stories in his childhood.

Growing up, Arran had never lived an ordinary childhood.

He and his parents always moved from place to place, be it the arid Arabian desert or the snowcapped mountains of the Himalayas, or getting involved with African guerillas or making deals with South American drug lords, his family had done it all.

For as long as he could remember, his life had been embroiled with one form of danger after another all because his parents had been searching for something, what it was, Arran had no idea. All he knew was that it took him to all sorts of places and that it was most likely the cause of his parent's disappearance.

Arran was filled with nostalgia as he thought about the time he spent with his parents. Because of the kind of life, he lived, he had always been homeschooled by his parents and everything he knew was thought to him by his parents, whether it was conventional knowledge of math's, physics or chemistry or martial arts and the art of killing, he knew them all.

If you were to ask Arran what was the fondest memory of his parents that he cherished the most, he would tell you that it was the memory of his parents when they told him stories as he grew up. Stories that were so bizarre, that they fed the imagination of a growing adolescent boy. One of the stories that Arran remembered his mom telling him vividly was about the river of life.

In the stories, the river of life circled around a small island.

No one knew where the source of the river came from because everywhere around the island river was nothing but desert sand. It was an island oasis but the only difference was that its waters were not still but flowing endlessly around the island in a perpetual loop.

On the island were dense clusters of vegetation with an enormous sky-reaching tree… like a divine spear piercing through the heavens… with thick and long branches that looked like they were holding up the sky… standing right at the center of the island. Apart from some trees and bushes, there were no other signs of life, save for the statue of a single deer.

It was called the river of life because at every natural life circle or the equivalent of one year, all types of lifeforms… like saber-toothed tigers that inhabited the mountains... lions, elephants, and the deer in the plains, or mythical dragons and phoenixes that roamed unrestrained in the world… all would go on a pilgrimage to cross the endless and treacherous desert just to drink from the river as it could cure all disease and heal all wounds and return life to those that were close to death's door.

All those who came to drink from the river of life did so without violence irrespective of their natures as there would be nothing but peace on its shores.

It was also said that any who managed to cross the river to step onto the island would be granted immortality.

Looking at the images carved on the box, Arran could not help but smile. He had always known that his parents were very cunning, but this time really took the cake. Now he could very much confirm why the cops had made no progress on his parent's case for the past two years. It was because they were trying to solve this in a conventional and rational way when instead they should have done otherwise.

Thinking of that, Arran could not help but to chuckle lightly as he said, "I can almost see the looks on their faces as they tried everything they could think of just to turn up with absolutely nothing."

Just picturing them, with different snapshots of various angles of the box stuck on a magnetic board, with their helpless expressions was enough for Arran to almost crack up into a fit of insane laughter. The reason was very simple, no one would ever associate the carvings on the box to any known myths or legends found on earth, and as such, there would be nothing to reference from thus rendering all their efforts null and void.

Iylls, that was the name of the river of life.

Now knowing this, the rest became very simple.

Iylls that was shown on the box and the one from the stories were not the same, at least, not entirely. The one shown on the box was incomplete.

Iylls was not only known as the river of life but also the river of death. It represented the cycle of life and death of all living beings. The depths of Iylls was filled with the ivory bones of creatures who had ventured past its shores. No creature had ever set foot on the sands of Iylls and it was not possible to fly over the river to land on the island itself as there were restrictions of mysterious power set in place to prevent that from happening.

There were two types of creatures that pilgrim to Iylls, those that came to Iylls in order to live a healthy and long life and those who came to die for it is believed that those who died in the depths of Iylls were guaranteed to be reincarnated into another life.

Iylls was known as the river of life and death because it could cure any ailment and guarantee a reincarnation in the cycle of samsara for those who could survive the journey to its banks.