Death's Call

Chapter 15

Darian's POV:

Staring back at the portrait, I felt more and more puzzled. It was suppose to bring back memories of the past but instead it gave me more memories to search for. Just looking at it made it difficult to understand the rage I felt every time I unraveled the frame. What history did I have with this person? Why could I not remember? Why do I get angry every time I stared at it? And most of all, why did I feel guilty when the eyes from the portrait stared back at me? Almost as if it blamed me for something I had done.

Gently, I pick up the veil and covered the frame. Staring at it didn't help at all. It was a useless attempt in getting my memories back. Not even a fragment. But what else could I do? I was desperate. This was driving me crazy that my head could explode.

I was back to square one every time I returned to look at this thing. "Useless." I say in a tone lower than a whisper. 

I needed a lead. Something to work with. A place. A clear vision. A living person who could enlighten me. A trail I could follow. 

But nothing.

Nothing made sense enough to judge.

To analyze.

I fall into my seat, reclining deeper into the seat for comfort. But the feeling I felt was far from comfort. My hands clenched and unclenched at the thought of having to have lived in a fools paradise all these years without knowing anything about my retracted memories. 

Necromancer was making no progress with my case that I was starting to think this whole thing was a mere wild goose chase. We were following useless trails back to our tail with no prospect. Gathering information about something we had no idea off was nothing more than a vain enquiry. 

Nevertheless, I needed to push through for answers. Answers, only my memories could provide me. But rummaging my memories seemed more fruitless than any other form of retrieving information about my past. I was losing my mind day by day. All because I was my past self had to miraculous lose his memory. One thing I was about was that, someone did this to me. But who?

I should go by Necro's antique, just in case something pops up. 

"Great, you're here."

My brows furrowed as I follow behind him in gentle steps. His speed led him to his desk where he stood to search thoroughly for something in particular. Which I had no idea of, and of which he failed to inform. "It's funny how I tried to think of a way to contact you and a few hours later, you are outside my door." He chuckles, making me stare back at him in complete oblivion.

"Am I suppose to understand your crazy talk with your yapping?" I glance back at my watch regretting my decision of coming here. "Get straight to the point Necro." I wasn't a very patient man and matters that delayed my time got on my nerves.

"Patience isn't in your book, I know. I've seen that side of you firsthand. But I am a man of riddles so I'm not surprised that we contradict." He laughed, reaching into the depths of his drawer with anticipation. After a thorough search, he looked up in thought and went back to search his disorganized desk. What was he searching for?

Sighing, I put my fingers on my stressed brows. Massaging it gently. "What are you going on about?"

Just before I could get more frustrated he pulls out a red card with a bow at the seal. I breath in a short breathe to seep in the anger rising in my throat. "Found it." He says, facing me while holding out the paper card that was blood red.

"You should read this. I think it's for you." I stare down at the papered envelope in between his fingers. My words choked up in my mouth as I look down at the piece of paper. I reach forward for the paper that could possible be my first clue at something. Gently, I open it up and swipe out the folded paper. The writings were so swift and gently, I recognized that it was from a fountain pen.