The only son to the greatest architect to ever grace Amaranth, Darryl was destined for great things from the beginning. His father designed and helped build all the grand temples on Amaranth, and even the Silver Cathedral on Astora. It took him over twenty years to finish his long life plan, not so long for a life's work, which became a much more inherent problem than he was aware of, not thinking of what he should do after.
The road changed quick, as most people know it can and will do, if you give it the chance.
One morning Darryl woke up to find his father gone, his mother not knowing where he had went. They both feared if he had left himself, which seemed unlikely without a note to say otherwise. Not sure if he was captured or even dead, yet there was no struggle in their home in his study.
"What should we do?" asked his mother so stricken with fear she could not move, "he was my rock. I'm nothing without him."
"You are as much as you are now as you were yesterday when he was here," replied Darryl, sounding angry but trying to suppress it.
"You know, youʼre right. I'm going to go down to the Spell-castersʼ Tower and file that he's missing. They should be able to find him with magick on their side," she was already about to take off as Darryl hurried to get ready.
"Let me come with you."
His mother sighed before she replied, "if you must. Let us hope the gods are on our side with this."
YOU ARE READING
The Source: Observer Chronicles, Book 3
FantasyCOMPLETE: Brenda encounters a group of unusual teenagers that appear out of nowhere, right in the middle of a war they seem to know a lot about. But what is it that they are hiding?
