The Golden Gates

“Get the move on, Iottas, we’ve got to find it!”
“But we’re almost there!” Iottas protested.
“Exactly, we want to get there sooner.” Cyre grabbed Iottas’ hand and hauled him forward, causing him to stumble.
“Calm down, Cyre! You could kill either or both of us trying to find some stupid sword you don’t even need! We can find it soon enough. Oh, and I’m hungry,” he added.
“Of course you are. You’re always hungry. Listen, Iottas, do you want to save not only my family but also all the other thousands of people that have been kidnapped for who-knows-what?”
“I’m sure they’re not thousands, Cyre. They are more like just a hundred. So calm down!”
“I don’t want to! Besides, I have too much energy.”
“I can tell.”
“So I want to run!” Cyre sprinted ahead and disappeared into the trees.
“Cyre! Wait! For Almighty Tecello’s sake, and for the last time, calm down!” The words ran behind Cyre as she ran further into the forest, blinded by manic energy. She leapt and jumped through the trees, ignoring the pain from the pine needles whipping her in the face. Something was calling her; she could feel it. It was growing hotter, something that had more energy than even she had.
Cyre stopped suddenly at a random clearing in the trees. Cloudy as it was, the sun shone on this particular spot. She felt as if she was burning up, however, the heat was not as intense as it could have been. She paced around the clearing, too afraid and uneasy to near the middle. There was something powerful here, a being, alive. It was radiating strength, supremacy and pure energy.
As she was almost completing a full circle around the clearing, Cyre stopped. She could hear Iottas calling her in the forest. Scared for him and wanting to ease his worry, she turned to run back to him. But she couldn’t. Whatever it was pulled her toward it, urging her to come to it. Her feet felt glued to the ground with nymph slime, a sticky blue substance that covered the skin of water nymphs to make them waterproof.
Cyre completed the circle, and her foot hit a root. Before she could blink, the ground opened up and swallowed her.
She landed gracefully on her feet; surprised the fall hadn’t left her on the ground.
Looking around, Cyre saw she was in a small cavern bathed in a soft golden glow. The walls and floors were smooth stone; it was obviously man-made. A golden door, magnificently carved in images of every kind. Birds, flowers, vines, and animals littered the magnificent door, and it sparkled in the yellow light. Where am I? That was when Eomai’s words returned to her. “There’s a special clearing in the forest. If you walk around it in a full circle, your foot will hit something. Don’t be scared, but you’ll fall. You will land in the secret hiding place of the Children of the Flames, which has been hidden for thousands of years. This is where the Sword of Jecire is hidden.” Cyre stumbled, though she wasn’t walking. That was what had been calling her. She was in the home of the Sword of Jecire.
Cyre walked slowly forward, cautiously looking around. Her feet rang on the smooth stone, even though she was wearing soft, leather-soled boots. When she reached the door, she had no idea what to do. Confusion spun through her, along with worry. What would Iottas think when he would find her? But first, she needed to open the door.
“Um, open?” she commanded. Nothing happened. “I command you to open.” Again, the same result. “Stupid door!” she wailed in frustration. “In the name of the Children of the Flames, open!” Silently, both doors swung open, leaving Cyre speechless.
Cyre raised one foot slowly. Nothing happened. Ever so slowly, she set it down across the threshold of the door. As silently as they opened, the great golden doors started to swing shut. Cyre barely managed to jump inside before they closed with a bang. This could be a trap. This is just too perfect a setup. But something told Cyre it wasn’t.
Step after step she advanced on the golden door opposite her. How many are there? She asked herself when she reached it.
“Ok, let’s see if this work. In the name of the Children of the Flames, open!”
“That will not work with this door, Cyre.” A raspy yet warm voice floated across the room, making Cyre jump and turn. A large lion stood across the room. His golden mane flowed down his neck like a real lion’s would. His golden eyes rolled in their sockets like a real lion’s would. Even though his tongue was golden, it still wetted the lion’s lips. Everything about the lion was realistic; the only difference between this lion and any other was that this lion was made completely out of gold.
That’s it. Cyre’s mind refused to take in anything more and shut down. She fell to the floor with a thud, and everything blacked out.