Quest For The Key

Chapter 6: A Letter From An Old Friend

Centra sat comfortably by an open fire in his office lounged on his arm chair, half asleep from late nights of worry. He looked  through the stack of letters the maid set down on the table beside him. Centra almost chucked all the letters before he spied one from the castle of Begannor. Centra eagerly rushed to open it and pull it out. The letter read:

Dear Centra,

     Yes the rumours of my pregnant wife were true. Centra I am disappointed in us for not have talked for so long. Lucy had the baby 10 years ago for heaven’s sake . It’s a boy though! I am looking forward to teaching my son, Sean how to hunt in the forest. The Mrs. is good and the castle is in spectacularly  good health. Unfortunately, my first, and oldest son is not as well. He was riding with his men one evening and did not come back. Yes, he had the key. He always wore it around his neck everywhere he went. We sent guards out in search and found their dead bodies deep in the forest days later. But, my son’s body was not wearing the key. I am terribly sorry. In a way I am glad it is gone. The thought of it brings me great pain and I remember the great loss of Hackory. It is all so fresh. 

    Your dearest friend,

Bardran

Centra was shocked. “ Wow had it been that long already?” thought Centra to himself and now it all made sense. That must have been why Jealousy now had the key in her clutches! She had been the one who had attacked Hakory and his men in the woods and stolen their things. She had killed prince Hakory, a family friend and for that she would pay. It was time for step three. A little visit to the Woodmer’s.

In another part of the forest Jealousy was shocked as well. 

 “No! No! No! No! What have I done?!” Jealousy screamed to herself insanely. Jealousy now flew through her house throwing bowls, tearing curtains with her claws, and knocking things over. She wailed and screamed and screeched as if someone was murdering her. Jealousy then  flew out of her fortress in a fleury of anguish. The key had made her destroy the last thing given to her by her master, the Dark Lord. It was an Iran Flower. She had planted it in her garden of weeds and Venus fly traps to always remember him.

Once she had realized what she was doing it was to late and she was enraged with anger towards what the key had made her do. The shattered remains of her purple and white Iran flower brought her great pain. She took the pieces to the river, threw them over the side and wept pitifully. 

She thought the key had been a friend, but, now she new otherwise. It had made her do a horrific deed and she would not go another day wearing it.