Jay Walker never knew the whole truth about his mother. No one did, really. She was a figment of the past, a historical figure whose entire life was shrouded. She was just known for her son and his legendary accomplishments. Even her husband barely...
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I stared in shock at the papers on my desk. A cup of water dropped from my hands, the liquid splashing against my sandals as bounced off the floor. I trembled, holding the desk to keep myself upright. This wasn't true. This couldn't be true.
The Cloud Kingdom had always been a source of wisdom and goodness. The realm was imbalanced towards the light, so it lived in relative peace. Few people ever wished to commit acts of evil because everyone knew that it would have no long-term benefit. It was easier to keep up a life of pleasing hobbies: gardening, reading, and observing pleasant sunsets and stars. Meanwhile, in the buildings above, scholars wrote out the future for other realms. We were the keepers of peace.
We were the future, a better future, for everyone.
At least, that was what I'd always been taught. That was what I'd always believed. But these papers... they were the proof that even a realm as good as ours could be infiltrated with lies.
"So, it's finally connected for you," Fenwick said from behind me. I could almost hear the satisfaction in the grey-haired man's voice as he took in the scene. My expression, my knuckles turning white against the desk, the water staining the wooden floorboards below. "You see what needs to be done."
"How?" I asked, breathless. The words written in front of me were so heartbreaking, even if they did nothing to affect me personality. How could the Master Writer do this? How could he go against everything the Cloud Kingdom stood for? "How could anyone do something this... this cruel?"
Fenwick's smile faded. He looked like a ghost in the pale moonlight, half his face obscured by shadows. "The Master Writer knows what is best for the realms."
"He wants to destroy two!" my voice raised, my breaths becoming short and irate.
"The Master Writer—" Fenwick took a breath to lower his voice, "has more wisdom than the rest of us. He has led all the realms through countless ages of peace and prosperity. I know he only had good intentions, for I was there when he was elected—"
"Have these realms become so terrible that the only way to grant the people peace is through destruction?" My words were barely a whisper. "There are innocent people who live there, many who even descended from us."
"The Master Writer knows best."
"Of course." I never was angry. Anger was a foreign construct to me. I saw no point in yelling and saying harsh things to others. It would only hurt both parties. This, however, this was different. It was like the small scroll room had finally allowed me to breathe, and those breaths brought in unfiltered emotions. "Of course, you think he knows best. You're his right-hand man, after all. But... how can you look at this, Fenwick, how can you look at the words that just doomed millions of innocent beings to death, and say it is what's right?"
He did not falter. Fenwick had a way with composure that many wished to replicate. He stepped forward, allowing the moonlight to consume his wrinkled features.
"Might I remind you, young Erasmus, that you are new to our ranks. You may be a destiny writer, but you are still an apprentice of sorts. You do not understand what is best, because you have not been taught what is best. Remember your place." His eyes were dark, darker than I'd ever seen them.
It took me a second to realize he was threatening me.
I wished I could have had enough spite to show I wasn't intimidated. But with the clouds covering the moon, the strange atmosphere drifted away. It took my anger with it. The numbness over my senses had returned. All I could feel now was terribly tired.
Fenwick took my silence as consent. "I want these papers organized and sent back to my study before dawn. Then, I would like you to gather all the potential people whose stories we will have to write in order to fit the Master Writer's narrative."
For the first time in a while, I wished I could be childish. I wanted to grab the scrolls and rip them to shreds, even though I knew that wouldn't do anything. Destroying the destiny scrolls would only lock the future in place. Altering them was forbidden under the threat of death. So, I composed myself and nodded, gathering the papers into an organized pile.
Fenwick gave a curt bow.
"The Cloud Kingdom is built upon wisdom," he said, "and you have made a wise choice today. I am sure you will do well among us, Erasmus."
"May the Master Writer write forever," I blankly responded.
"And may his pen forever be swift," Fenwick completed the farewell and left the room, leaving the ornate oak door to creak shut behind him.
And then I was alone in a disorganized study of quills and ink. The small colored pots decorated even smaller shelves that laced themselves through the walls. A few bioluminescent plants grew in their domes, providing a weak source of light.
So, the future was set in stone.
Ninjago was to fall to a broken boy, and the Realm of Madness was to follow soon after.
Two realms, millions of innocents, slaughtered within minutes of each other.
If that was mercy, if that was wisdom, then I didn't know what cruelty was. But I was inside the system. If I worked hard enough, perhaps I could find a loophole. Maybe I could make things better for both realms. It was my only shot at fixing this damage.
Though I knew saving the people of Ninjago and the Realm of Madness was impossible, perhaps there could be less painful ways to die.
So I took out my feathered pen, dipped it in ink, and began to write.
