*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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"And you thought it couldn't be done," August proclaimed to me and Leuthar when he twirled around in his finished robe. It was a midnight blue, shimmering under the hearth light in the round room. He stopped in front of my chair and with his arms spread out, showing off the sleeves. "What do you think?"
Inwardly, I had hoped he would've failed to avoid me having to take him along to the Red Ball, but I was impressed that he had managed it. It took dedication to complete it in such a short period of time and without a flaw to it, or so it appeared.
"A disguise is only as good as its spell," I replied, making me think he'd scowl but he lit into a grin. He was giddy and I had to admit that I would take that over him sulking any day because it seemed he was more irritated than his usual self these days. Laelmos was getting to him.
"Watch this." He then pulled up his hood and moved his cloak tightly around his frame. His proportions shrunk into a slimmer, shorter frame that was half his original size. He'd overdone it and had made himself into a boy. "See, you can't tell it's me."
Leuthar snorted then tilted the contents of his cup back into his mouth before he stated, "You look like a woman," he paused, considering his next words, then added, "minus the tits."
August fumed and tore down his cloak's hood, scowling at Leuthar. "Hey—"
"You need to work on it. You've overestimated how much you need to change," I interrupted, cutting off an argument between him and Leuthar. I didn't agree with Leuthar's words, but I didn't want August to go on a never-ending tangent... again. "You don't need to make yourself look eight years younger for people to not believe that it's you. Most people may be vigilant around here, but they can easily be fooled by subtle changes."
He frowned and looked down, picking at his sleeves. "But I don't have time to go back through and reword my spell. It took me forever to get it right and not have it morph me into a blown out of proportion me."
The simplest fix was for him to give up on going to the Red Ball, yet I didn't say that. He wanted to truly be a part of The Remnant and needed to learn what that meant. He had to carry his own weight and prove himself or else life here would swallow him whole and spit him out bare as bones.
"How do you expect to progress in your training if you can't make a simple disguise spell?" I asked seriously, and when I had I watched him yank off his cloak in a huff and then march away from me. A heavy sigh escaped me as I heard his footsteps stomping up the stairs.
I wished that he wouldn't get frustrated over every inconvenience, and yet I couldn't blame him entirely for that. He had been unsettled since his demon counterpart began to emerge and constantly shifted between playful and aggravated. There was no cure for his ailment, not until he found a resting place within himself and accepted who he was.
His battle had barely begun...
"Some part of you wants to lecture me for my words."
I glanced back to Leuthar at his words, and then nodded slowly. "You give him too much grief. He is in a difficult spot right now and it would be best to tread carefully with him."
