The World Wanderer Chronicles

Chapter 1 (or the one where the king is being a shitty father)

A horrendous scream echoed through the night as the moon disappeared behind a large group of clouds. The poor district, deprived of their only source of light, cloaked itself in gloomy shadows. Only the high-rising buildings of the rich were strongly lit. Lone guards patrolled the dangerous area at regular intervals, always eager to find any sign of disturbances. Thus, they were immediately alerted to the peace-breaking screech. The favorable situation pleased the darkest shadow in the alley. Without having to wait for the patrol change, the nimble figure crept between the niches of dilapidated buildings. Careful to blend in with the shadows and remain invisible, the figure made their way along the crumbling rooftops, using the chimneys for cover. They climbed down from the gutter of the last house with ease and disappeared into the safe darkness while the guards were occupied.

Breathing heavily, the cloaked figure finally stopped in front of their destination. The ponderous wooden door swung open surprisingly quietly, allowing them to glide through and into an old warehouse. Briskly, they walked past the rusty shelves and dusty crates. As they crossed half the room, they turned right, standing directly in front of a crumbling wooden scaffold. After a loud exhalation, they braced themselves against the dizziness that was yet to come and stepped through the wooden scaffolding. Immediately, a deep-seated suction arose, pulling the figure through a dark, glimmering vortex.

Within seconds, the old, dusty warehouse alternated into a luscious garden labyrinth. The sun was just beginning to set, and the changing air felt fresh and energizing on their heated face. After taking a deep and liberated breath to suppress the rising nausea from the travel obstacle, the cloaked figure finally drew back their hood, revealing dark hair in a tight braid.

'Took you long enough. I nearly died of boredom,' said a mocking voice behind her. With a swift turn, the startled woman turned around. Without a second thought, a flashing dagger appeared with a swift motion in her hand. It wasn't like she didn't recognize the voice; the movement just came as a reflex. She didn't get caught once, but the paranoia and rising anxiety followed her no matter how often she succeeded in sneaking in and out of the palace. She snarled at the disturber as she returned to her indifferent composure.

'You want to get killed, don't you? Never sneak up on me like that again.'

'I accompanied you here. It's not like I appeared out of nowhere. Also, you're the one who's sneaking around, sister dearest.'

'Don't call me that. I thought you had gone back already. Did you get caught up in a book again?' Sliding the dagger back into her waistband, she began taking off her dark coat. Jameson smiled sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders, exchanging the coat she handed him with a more court-worthy one.

'I was, but then I finished it and I thought, why not wait for my darling sister?' Liliana was in the middle of putting on her heavily embroidered cloak when she stopped in her tracks and stared at her brother.

'Did you just call me darling sister? What happened? Who's dead? Did someone follow you?' An unpleasant feeling crept down her spine.

'Nothing. You're always so damn paranoid. Wait, is that blood?' Jameson was clearly avoiding eye contact now and was starting to pick at the corner of his book. Now she was sure. Something was wrong. Jameson would never damage his beloved books. To him, they are more sacred than any human life. After closing the cloak properly, she straightened herself and stared at him coldly until he let out a defeated sigh. Liliana's lips curled into a smug smile. She truly knew her brother, though she wished he would adopt the hard spines of the books he was always reading or carrying around. 'Alright! Father is back from his summer residence. I felt his presence-'

'And?'

'And he left a message. He wants to see you. Immediately.'

In an instant, her victorious smirk turned to stone. She felt pure hatred flowing through her veins. Balling her hands into fists, she tried to stop an outburst. 'Are you sure it's him and not another relative? I have some meetings with-', she knew she was in denial, but still, crumbs of hope will always remain. Jameson sighed deeply.