He stumbled into the house, barging on the front door and stopping at the middle of the living room. It stank of rodent feces and rain-dried lumber. He carefully placed a foot forward, now weary and conscious of the new environment. He had never seen this house before, much less knew where exactly where it was located. His hands dabbed the cracked walls and the cobwebbed benches and tables. He figured it had been left for years unattended, or the owner had simply died and no next of kin was available to take it. As he wondered through the hall and into the kitchen, a lock of blond hair swooshed at the corner of his eye. He turned exactly in time to see the girl’s feet disappear into a room above. He followed her inside a wide space with dirty crates, portraits and chests covered with dust sacks.

“Where are you?” he said softly, rounding a crate to see its other side. But no girl was there. “I don’t want to bother you. I only need to know why you can see him.” He lifted a chest big enough for her to hide. Clothes of red and blue greeted him, but no little lady.

“Please. I only need to talk—“

When he pressed the chest shut, the air around him cooled to a temperature close to winter, but the atmosphere felt heavy enough that clouds could form and rain would pour in. His arms instantly wrapped around his body. He wore only a plain brown trouser and a light tunic, not even a doublet for a proper young man. His thin body shriveled from the cold, wishing for the heat of the afternoon sun.

Right when he stood to leave, the slivers of sunlight peeking through the shut windows changed into a blood red hue. His feet led him near the windows, near the rays of crimson light. He held his hand up against it and found it was the same as any light, but no heat carried over as the sun’s blaze like he had expected. Squinting, he pressed his forehead closer to the windows, peeking through the openings. But soon as his head touched the cold dry wood, a loud thud came from downstairs.

He snapped towards the closed door, ears patiently waiting for another sound. When he had dismissed it as a cat or rat causing ruckus in the basement, he casually moved ahead. Another sound thundered from downstairs, making him stop yet again. Then after a while, footfalls followed. Huge and full. When the sound came at him constantly, five seconds apart, instinctively he positioned himself behind a crater, kneeling on one knee and with a good half view of the door.

He was convinced the sounds were either human or a large animal. The owner of the house perhaps or a squatter? No. Impossible. The house wasn’t in fit shape to be habitable by anyone, not unless they’re termites or mold. The sound grew louder and stronger. Whatever it was, it was coming closer. Then it must be a passerby or someone who needed to be alone or something. If it was any normal person, why did William feel the need to hide? Why was his heart beating faster, the hair on his skin standing up and all thoughts inside his head was screaming for him to leave the place?

William couldn’t take the suspense any more. He wasn’t looking to know what it is that was coming to him. He had to get out now. He approached each of the barred windows in front of him, pushing, testing it if it budged. It took him three inspections before he finally found a window lose enough to pry open. Problem was, it was closer to the door where the sound was getting louder and stronger. He suddenly didn’t care about the distance, he only wanted out. His fingers reached for the wooden plank placed on the window and pulled. With three big huffs, he managed to pull the plank from the window and stumble a couple steps back. More red light streamed from the outside as the sound immediately stopped. Silence ruled again.

A part of William wanted to look out and see what had made it stop. But soon as he figured the opening he made was too small for him to pass, his fingers immediately wrapped itself on the next plank and pulled. He could always control his curiosity a lot better than most people. The nails fastened on the ends of the planks were tighter than the ones before, almost impossible to wrest open. But William heaved and hoed, determined to let the plank loose. Bits of scratches appeared on his palms as he pressed on the wood and pulled even harder.

Taking a second break, he placed his right foot against the wall and pulled again. When one of the nails showed signs of giving in, he put more muscle into it, grunted and finally yanked it out. The inertial force caused him to topple and fall on the floor. At the same time, the door slammed open; a five-foot large object wrapped in white flew from the opening and landed on top of him. It was heavy but soft. When he had moved past the pain shooting from his back, he realized he was face to face with another boy fast asleep. His eyes bawled as it took every instinct in his body telling him not to scream. After a moment of quiet panic, he recognized that long bridged nose, those girly lashes and that slick blond hair.

It was his good friend, Garret Talbot. He was the child of the Talbot household, the fifth son of the Earl of Shrewsbury. He liked Garret most among all the Earl’s children for he was more concerned about the people around him than position and power unlike other nobles in court.

Just as William had the inkling to shake his friend awake and ask him what he was doing resting here, a dark boot appeared at the corner of his eye. And then the shouts in his head that screamed for him to leave returned as did his fast beating heart. The man who owned the boots walked from his side and around, looking from Garret to him under his friend. William thought if this man was responsible for kidnapping Garret, it might not be best to here. But what could he do? He had already seen him and most likely he’ll stop him if he tried to escape. So he did the next best thing to do.

Nothing.