the books of hidden worlds

chapter twenty-eight: Kian

    "Do you think we can really get the book?" Kian asked, his voice strained with worry. "I miss Father... I just want to go home."

Rowan nodded in agreement. "Yes, and once we’re home, we’ll play hide and seek again. Just like old times." Alden grinned at Kian, adding, "Promise?"

Kian’s eyes softened, and he gave a faint smile. "Promise," he whispered, sharing a quiet laugh with Alden.

"Alright, let’s get some sleep," Elias said, wrapping an arm around his brothers. Kian looked up at him, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you... for being my brothers." The words took them all by surprise, but they smiled warmly at him.

"Goodnight, Ki," they murmured together before drifting into sleep.

Suddenly, I woke up. "What time is it, Al?" I asked. "It’s only noon," he replied. "Why did you fall asleep?" I shrugged. "I was bored, and there wasn’t much to do. Anyway, go eat; Rowan cooked your favorite dish."

"Did you dream earlier, Ki?" Al asked, his tone suddenly serious. I nodded. "Yes, but it all happened so fast... I'll tell you when I remember everything, Al."

I left the room and found Rowan painting. He was working on a sunflower—a familiar image somehow, stirring something in the back of my mind. I sat down, and suddenly, a vision appeared: a house with a man stepping out of its door, holding a wand.

"Salem, come in quickly!" he called urgently, but before he could finish, he collapsed.

"Kian!" Rowan’s voice broke through the haze, lifting me and carrying me to the sofa. "Elias!" he shouted. Elias rushed over, asking, "What happened here?" Rowan shook his head. "He just fainted suddenly. I don’t know if he’s sick or what."

Elias checked Kian’s pulse. "He’s not sick; maybe he just needs some rest. Let’s wait until he wakes up, and we’ll know more then."

In the Year 1942

At their home, Shaun, Kent, and Louis, three siblings, discussed a book they had found. "What do you think this is?" Louis asked. Kent shrugged. "Maybe just a history book or something." Shaun opened the book, scanning the words on the pages.

It read, "In 16th-century England, witches and wizards were once allies. However, a tragic event involving a book, written by a professor from a wizarding school, shattered this friendship. The witches could hardly believe what was written—they had always believed in friendship between the two worlds."

"A history of wizards and witches? How strange," Shaun remarked, closing the book. "They both have powers, right?"

"Don’t read too much into it, or we’ll drive ourselves mad," Kent said with a sigh. "We know we’re wizards—that’s what matters."

In the palace, the king slept soundly, unaware of the sudden chill that had fallen over his land. People outside stirred in confusion, whispering about the unexpected cold. The king awoke, shivering. "What’s happening?" he called, leaving his chambers.

"Hina!" he shouted. She quickly appeared. "I’m here, Your Majesty."

"Why has it suddenly grown cold?" the king asked, his voice grave. "I’m not certain, but only the White Witch could be behind this," she replied, her face tense. Just then, a laugh echoed through the air—a woman’s voice, sinister and mocking.

"Hina, you must leave now and find the Arcana siblings. Please, go to them immediately."

Hina nodded, rushing off without a word. The White Witch stepped forward, casting a dark look at the king. "Forgive my intrusion, Your Majesty. I only came to reclaim my power."