BOOK ONE OF EVER GROWING MAGICK
"From the mountains to the sea, the Riverlands shall be free!"
A fantasy world experiencing an industrial revolution powered by magic; an organization known as the Order controls the flow of magic, the lifeblood of a...
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Nudge.
"Finn..."
No response. Another nudge.
"Finneas!"
This time the voice was louder. Still no response. Yet another nudge.
"Finneas Breydan, you lazy git!" the girl's voice yelled, using the boy's full name. "Get up, you're late!"
Finneas shot up, jolted by the sudden shock. He stretched his arms out, yawning. He looked over to see Mollie. The red-haired girl had a stern face as if she was trying to tell him off.
"Finally you wake," she commented. "The way you were sleeping, I thought you'd never wake up."
"What time is it?" Finneas said, still sounding drowsy.
"Late," Mollie replied. "You're meant to catch fish today. Did you forget?"
The girl's comment made Finneas's stomach sunk. He had completely forgotten about how the harbourmaster had decided the boys would help the fisherman with fishing. After days of bad weather, with a storm battering up the coast, the rain stopped yesterday evening, prompting the decision that it was safe for the kids to help.
Finneas leapt from his bed. He made his way to the cupboard, where he found the first shirt he could find. All the boys shared the cupboard with the other boys, so occasionally he would pick out someone else's clothes. Finneas dragged the shirt on. It might've been his friend's shirt. It was a tad too big for him. He grabbed a pair of trousers, putting them on. Much to Finneas's luck, it was his trousers. Finally, he grabbed his jumper.
"Now you get up," Mollie remarked sarcastically. Mollie watched as he got himself ready.
"I'm not that bad, am I?"
"Compared Kist, no..." Mollie chuckled. "But at least he remembered to wake up."
"He's already there?"
"I assume so. Unless he's planning to skive."
Finneas began walking down the hallway, Mollie following from behind. Opening the door, Finneas entered the bathroom. Mollie remained just outside, standing by the doorway. He turned the tap, allowing water to fill the sink. He began splashing his face with water.
He stared up at his face. Slight freckles on the nose. He used to get mocked for that, but he always ignored those taunts. Fighting back never worked, Finneas always told himself. Violence was never his thing. That was more Kistoph's thing. His friend would beat any kid who mocked Finneas, even if Finneas had specifically asked Kistoph not to lay the person out. He worried someday his friend would pick on something he couldn't chew. He'd hate to see his friend get hurt, especially if Finneas had caused it and not his friend.
Finneas looked at his curly hair. It wasn't as long, or as unruly, as his younger brother's set of curls, but he always found it difficult to maintain. Occasionally, he'd get it cut. But it always grew back. Using his fingers, Finneas quickly and crudely combed his hair.
