*Book One of The Accursed Chronicles*
August was a man from a normal world, living a mundane life until one night everything changed, and he was sent spiraling into a world stuck forever in winter, full of magic, creatures, and a curse that has grip...
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I would've thought that I would've felt inescapable vulnerability when I revealed my true self to August, yet there had been nothing. He'd won my trust without trying and only time would tell if I would regret that.
When August had left, I removed my cloak and set it alongside on the desk chair. I shuffled through the papers on my desk, only seeing old letters and nothing of interest before I turned and walked out of my room. The door beside my room was open, telling me August had settled there. I couldn't complain since having him near was better than not since he found trouble far too often.
As I began to pace the corridor, I felt memories creeping along with me. I could see ghosts of people from my past, hear haunting laughter, and feel the hopes and dreams of the dead. Laughter, hopes, and friendships had once filled this house. There had never been an empty room nor place at the table. The hearth had always been warm, and a friendly smile had been easy to come by.
A little over a hundred and eighty years ago, The Remnant had begun as a band of friends, all bound together by our passion to defeat the Vale, yet it had defeated us over the years. One by one, I had watched my allies succumb, die, or end themselves by poison or weapon, too overcome by the darkness. Leuthar, while not having been tainted by the Vale, was the only remaining member of The Remnant besides myself.
I dreaded coming here every time I returned to Darrose as I was haunted by the dead and those I had failed.
Eighty years ago, the identity and name of Ronan had died when I'd found my closet ally dead on the floor in front of the hearth. Valens had been his name; we'd been together since I had been kicked out of Darrose's head academy of Roefell by Headmaster Lancaster. He'd started The Remnant with me and had sworn the same oath as I, yet had been more troubled than I.
When I had come off the stairs, I turned into the round room and paused in the doorway and breathed out unsteadily. Every time I walked in here, I could remember seeing the trail of blood from under the table that had ran to the archway. He'd been dead for hours, the room had stunk of rotten eggs, and flies had been buzzing about. There, just before the hearth had he laid, both arms slit from the wrists to the elbows with dried blood coated on them and around him in a pool. He'd left a letter stating that the Vale could never be defeated and that he had hoped I would find peace like him one day.
I'd never once revisited my real identity since that day. I'd remained Gloom until now, to ashamed to face the failings of both my sides. However, I was Ronan and Gloom, and neither could be ignored nor split apart. It was time to come back and revive The Remnant before it was too late...
"This is a face I haven't seen in some time."
I glanced to my left to see Leuthar leaned against the archway to the round room. My words felt trapped inside my mouth, realizing not only had I failed all those before me, but Leuthar as well. Why had he stuck with me all these years as I had changed?
