y!
How much time had passed?
Ten minutes?
Ten years?
Keldon couldn’t tell. Consciousness evaded his grasp like loose sand, slipping through his fingers. Yet, somehow, he had thought.
Occasionally.
Was Bertram okay?
“Just this once, let me have done something right.” thought Keldon into nothingness.
Wait. If he was nothing. How could he think?
Strange.
Keldon tried to open his eyes.
Slowly, Keldon began to blink back to consciousness. Something wasn’t right though. Where was the open sky? But, instead of the fading purple hues of twilight, Keldon was met with a cold stone ceiling and the familiar musky scent of wood glue book binding. Keldon pulled himself upwards, looking around him. It seemed like he was no longer in the glades of Deeproot woods but rather, in a small cozy room, filled with stacks of tomes.
“ Where am I…” Keldon thought, looking at his surroundings. Looking around the room brought back recent memories, Bertram battling, Keldon trying to pull the other new recruit members to safety, and the terrible Aberrant . If he could help it, Keldon didn’t want to remember the sight of the aberrant, fearing that even remembering it’s image charging at him would chase away any sanity that his unconscious mind was able to recollect. However, what he could remember though, was the vivid memory of incomprehensibly raw and utter power. His arm throbbed at the thought of the wild terror and bewilderment he’d experienced.
“Nothing.” Keldon thought, examining his right arm. His arms seemed perfectly fine now, but Keldon remembered the searing white-hot pain of the mutilation. That moment of despair seemed to last an eternity, that moment when his eyes locked with what felt like one of the most terrifying creatures on this side of the continent. But then, something beckoned his ear. Something absolute gripped his hands and pulled him towards something beyond his comprehension. The memories had fragmented beyond that moment, but what Keldon did remember was speaking some sort of name, Keldon had called to something… someone…and whatever it was, it gave him strength. And as freely as it was given, it was taken away. Keldon couldn’t remember how, who, or why it really happened but he was almost certain he knew a what.
“Magic…” Keldon whispered to himself. The floodgate of emotions and questions burst open, overwhelming him with thoughts and feelings. What sort of magic was that? How did he even acquire it? How long has he had this power? Why did it trigger now? And not to mention, the sheer relief Keldon felt knowing that he could actually use SOME sort of magic. But the mix of joy, relief, anxiety, and tension he felt was shadowed by the problem that loomed over his mind.
Keldon had invoked illegal magic.
It was 74 years ago, by decree of the First Prime Emperor, Sun-K’aal-Sun, Illuminator of the Veil, right hand of the Archon, and the father of the nation’s modern magic, that magic which not created by his hand and mind, are verboten under his name.
However, hedidn’t have the luxury of contemplating on what even got him to his newfound strength or how he was going to hide it. First of all, he still had no idea where he was. He steeled himself, and looked around the room.
“It doesn’t seem like any sort of field hospital unfortunately,” Keldon thought. No sound of overworked field doctors running about, no strong stenches of antiseptics, and he certainly didn’t hear any noise from any tar-eyed folk or rowdy patients. Couldn’t be, It was far too quiet for that.
“So… Am I dead?” Keldon thought, looking around the room. “Well no, most likely not, I was much closer to death just a few minutes ago.”
Keldon glanced over the stacks of old tomes. Most of which he had never even heard the names of, much less have read.
“This isn’t Old Man Mortimer’s storage room either. Far too many unread old tomes. He’d usually let me read whatever I wanted as long as I helped him out around the shop. Plus, how would I even have gotten here?” Keldon said aloud to himself, picking up a nearby book to inspect it. The leather-bound book was falling apart at the edges, someone wasn't properly taking care of them it seemed. Its pages were yellowed and the seams were unraveling in his hands. He inspected the fraying book, turning it over.
The front cover was dusty and scrawled with letters, or at least hethought they were letters. He flipped the book open, looking for any discernible letters or pictures. However, despite his best attempts, Keldon couldn’t identify where the language originated from.
“Strange, It at least seems like the structure of the language is similar to syntax of old common-tongue, but the glyphs of the words don’t make any sense. I see multiple instances of the same symbols used multiple times in a row.” Keldon thought, flipping quickly through the pages.
He desperately wanted to pore over the mountains of beautiful texts, carefully deconstructing each and every syllable, phenome, and bits of syntax that he could find. However, his curiosity had to wait.
“Where am I?”
Since he had awakened, Keldon finally noticed his surroundings a tad bit more carefully. The room was relatively dark, only lit by the orange light of lamp, hung above his bed. A small desk, piled with stacks of loose paper and jars of ink sat in the corner of the room opposing a wooden door with a lock, astonishingly unremarkable for a room full of what Keldon could only possibly imagine as ancient tomes.
As Keldon’s eyes swept the room, he looked down to his clothing to see that he wasn’t wearing the same battle-worn outfit. Replacing his previously bloodied dress clothes was a simple navy robe with long embroidered sleeves that extended to his wrists and stitched within the inner lining of the robe, was a glimmering golden weave that shimmered in a strange undulating pattern.
Keldon spun around, inspecting the rest of the robe he wore. The item was woven out of material that he couldn’t recognize but could tell that it was well-made. The clothes bore signs of aging but remained free from fray and tears. He looked around the room, spotting a small hand mirror by a tiny dresser at the feet of the bed. Unsure as of what he’d see, Keldon hesitated for a second before peeking at his reflection
He looked normal, Keldon thought, relaxing as he loosened up his shoulders. He was worried that perhaps this had been some sort of traumatic hallucination played just before his death. But, as Keldon was inspecting himself in the mirror, he heard a noise from behind the wooden door.
Keldon froze in place, fear raising his hairs on end as he stared at the door. He wasn’t alone.
Slowly, he crept up to the door. Keldon took a deep breath, and placed his ear on the wooden door.
Nothing.
Keldon stared at the door handle, his hand shaking as he reached out to it. The brass doorknob was cool to the touch. Carefully, trying not to let the doorknob squeak, he creaked open the door, peering out into the other side. However, rather than being greeted by plain stone hallways, Keldon was met with a long narrow wooden bridge which was connected to another floor level overhead. To Keldon’s sides was a walkway, with several other doors similar to the one he just came out of and a railing to the other side. The architectural design was similar to tower labyrinths, or at least he thought it was. Keldon had never seen one himself; books about the outside world were oftentimes scarce in small communities like the ones Keldon grew up in, he was just lucky that he had become good friends with Mortimer who allowed him to read the books from his shop at his leisure.
A vast array of wooden bridges connected the different levels of floors. There were twelve different floor levels, each with its own set of connecting bridges, doors, and hallways. The seemingly endless maze of bridges all hung over an open spaced reception area down below as light poured through a dome overhead. However, Keldon didn’t really have time to appreciate the beauty of the scenery, As he surveyed his environment, he noticed something slinking in the shadows above. An unfortunately familiar figure crawled along the underbelly of a bridge overhead, skittering underneath the bridge. The hair-raising rhythmic clicks pierced the air as Keldon ducked behind a nearby support pillar, trying to hide himself from his terrifying acquaintance.
“These things again??!” Keldon thought, staring into the creatures back, hoping that somehow it would drop dead if he willed it away hard enough. But no such luck, Keldon held his breath, afraid that the slightest disturbance would send the creature barreling towards him like a newbie sifter to a freshly popped bubble of hissing gas. However, while the creature was skittering about, luckily for Keldon, something caught it’s attention when suddenly it barreled down a nearby hallway, clicks fading into the distance as Keldon let out a small sigh of relief.
“ Thank the G-“ said Keldon, when suddenly, something covered his mouth and pulled him into one of the rooms. Keldon struggled, fear filling his heart and eyes before he was quickly shushed by a soft voice in his right ear.
“ Shh Shh Shh, it’s just me, Raul, calm yourself. You need to keep your voice down, Devoidlings are still skulking about.” said the voice, in an attempt to soothe Keldon. Keldon slowly stopped flailing and turned around to see a red haired young man who looked like he was either thirteen or thirty, covering his pursed lips with his finger in a shushing gesture. He bore the same style of garment as Keldon though his looked a little too large for his spindly body. He looked Keldon up and down.
“Bless the eight, you’re alright Jeb.” Raul said, holding Keldon by the shoulders. “Any cuts or wounds? Broken bones? I assume you can at least move judging by your poor attempt at skulking around.”
“Oh uh.. yeah. Jeb?” Keldon asked, before quickly shutting his mouth, realizing what he had just betrayed. Raul shifted from a look of concern to slight confusion.
“Uh... Sorry, I tripped when I was running away and I hit my head so my head is still kind of hazy.” Keldon lied, hoping that Raul wouldn’t pursue the matter any further.
“We’ll try to get you checked out as soon as possible when we get to the shelters then.” said Raul, picking Keldon up by the hand and moving towards the door. “For now, let’s get out of here”
Raul crept out the room, motioning for Keldon to follow behind as they both snaked down the eerie winding hallways. The air hung heavily upon the two as they moved through the long corridors. The building…no. Library? Monastery? Whatever it was, it was a mess. Royal black and gold drapes littered the ground in shreds, dried black blood stained the walls while death’s scent danced throughout the still halls, fighting for Keldon’s attention against the threat death itself presented from the skittering Devoidlings.
“So, what’s-“ said Keldon as he begun to speak.
Raul whipped around, furrowing his brow and holding his finger up in front of his lips to shush Keldon.
Keldon quickly shut his mouth, nodding his head. Satisfied by the response, Raul crept forward; turning the corner and creaking open the door on his left.
He turned back and nodded , gently opening the door as he slunk into the room with Keldon trailing behind.
(To be continued)
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