I
Rhode
If ever you're approached by a middle-aged man looking like he came straight out of medieval Europe, run the other way and never look back. But if you're like me and you weren't given this advice beforehand, I'm sorry in advance.
I was walking home alone from the grocery store when this man came up to me. He had jet black hair, and a face that seemed as old as time. Reaching around 6'0", he was pretty tall for looking like he was in his mid-sixties. A cape covered the rest of his clothes, but I assumed they were just as weird as wearing a cape out in public. To put the cherry on top, he used a walking stick that was made of oak wood, with a giant emerald that screamed, "I may be old but I'm rich!".
I turned to him, but he kept his eyes forward. That didn't stop him from talking, "Hello Rhode. I have some answers for you."
"And have some questions for you," I countered. "Questions 1 and 2: who are you and how do you know my name?"
He chuckled, "Well, my name is Alizar and I know your name because you are very important in my world."
"What do you mean 'your world'? As in not this one?"
Alizar didn't look very surprised; he probably dealt with telling unsuspecting teenage girls literally world-shattering information like this on a daily basis. "Precisely. So glad you're catching on. I myself can not explain here, but head home and check your attic. You'll know magic when you see it."
If I was confused before, I was utterly baffled by now. I turned to ask him one of my many other questions, only to find that he was gone.
I I
Rhode
I made a mad dash for the attic, and started searching for anything that might clue me into what Alizar was talking about. I moved around the boxes, and checked for any hollow floorboards or secret doors, only to find some change, my brother Brooks' childhood bunny, and half a potato chip.
I sank against the attic wall, taking in the room. If what Alizar was saying is true, every inch of this house, every crevasse, was a lie. Every box in here probably wasn't even ours.
Think Rhode, think! If you were a magical object of sorts, where would you hide?
But... what if it wasn't hiding? What was the point of looking through all the secretive places if its intention was to be in plain sight, like it was waiting to be found?
Pushing myself off the wall, I began scanning through all the boxes that my mom so graciously labeled.
Almost halfway through searching, a particular box caught my eyes, 'Grandpa O, 1905-1991'. I didn't know much about my mom's grandfather, only that his first name started with the letter 'O'.
The second I cracked open the lid, everything seemed to still. Sunlight clung onto the dust that filled the air, shining in a such a way that they could be bits of magic leaving the box. Weathered down scrolls the color of coffee stains coated/blanketed the top of the box, as if it was warning me not to go further. Naturally, I unbound the first scroll to find words in a language I didn't recognized. After a few seconds of staring in disbelief, the letters hovered around the page, curling in and out of the sections where the paper rolled at the ends. They settled on a landing spot, but this time in English:
The Kingdom of Rayign is Yours.
I was definitely tripping. I had to be. What did that even mean? Did I accidently walk through the wrong alley on my way home? There's no way this could be real. What even is a Rayign? Maybe that guy was just a person Brooks paid off to see how gullible I am. Still, something was pulling at me to keep looking. Medieval swords and dirtied glass bottles filled Grandpa O's box, but another scroll caught my eye.
This one was just like the first, except this one had gold binding instead of silver. I opened it and it was a letter. Just as I was about to put it down, I saw who it was addressed to:
