Opposites: The Staff of Light [Book One]

34. The Beginning of Answers

Colton

The blacksmith's place was darker in the inside than it was on the outside (and yes, the sad part was that it made me heartachingly think of Annabeth a dozen times over).

Grey walls held up the ceiling. The room was lit up with a single hearth from the middle of the far wall meters right in front of us. There were wooden bulletin boards displayed on the wall to our left, showcasing a collection of nicely-crafted weapons—katanas, staffs, swords, daggers, shields... name it and the board's got it. A metal box case sat at the corner just below the boards. From a distance, I could see inside were piles of silver arrows that shimmered in the crackling fire's light.

I turned my head, only to witness the source of the clanking metal noises I heard from outside. A man stood near the fireplace, hammering an object that glowed bright red on an anvil. Soon the blacksmith had thongs to carry the metal piece and dipped it into a fat short pot beside his equipment. A few seconds of letting his creation steam, he pulled it out, presenting a beautiful metalcraft—another shield with sun and Aztec designs and whose size was just the same as the others—and placed it on his anvil.

"Right," the blacksmith began as he turned his attention to us with the same raspy voice. "What can I do to help a young lad like you?"

The man had seemingly been about forty and was almost two feet taller than me. The shape of burly muscles was visible through his large shirt. His auburn beard obviously hadn't been shaved quite well (don't get me started on his mustache). His icy blue eyes burned circles into me. I gulped down a wave of fear. Suddenly, I didn't feel as confident as I did when I entered the bloody door. "W-well," I started off. The blacksmith placed his hands on hips as he cocked a brow. "How long did you exactly get yourself those muscles?"

"You came into my shop to ask about my muscles?"

Oh, Colton, my dear child... it won't be long before your death.

I lurk in the shadows when I watch you as you run through the market. I had just returned from watching your two sisters struggling with their own fate. And as I passed into this little town, I find you following your own as you are destined to do so. You step closer to find the maiden Annabeth Candum, the edge of your quest...

...and the end of your life... I swore to kill all of you... starting with you and your sisters.

Alice

I couldn't sleep well that night while I stared at the rag dolls Tyler and I arranged about two meters in front of us. I burned circles into the blue-and-white button-eyed blonde one with that ever so creepy smile. Somehow that toy did seem weird... somehow it resembled me (although I had two symmetrical blue eyes—maybe they just ran out of buttons when they made the doll).

I remember laying myself on the couch in the attic while Tyler was on the floor, his back facing me as he positioned into a ball. Jezebel's mother—Adelaide Youngblood (and to be honest, I like that last name)—insisted to let us use her bed and that she could share Jezebel's, but Tyler and I refused. "We're already so grateful for dinner," Tyler said, "and please, let us use the chairs downstairs."

"Oh no, they're too hard for your heads and your bodies won't be comfortable during the night," Adelaide answered. "You could use the couch in the attic. It's not that dusty, and I let Jezebel play there everyday. The stubborn little girl just won't refrain herself from coming out. Her adventures lead herself to bullies and judging, knowing that the problem..." Her voice faltered. "Anyways, the only things you'll find distracting are the dolls. I'm sure Jezebel won't mind you two using them as pillows or huggables. You did defend her from earlier. Have a pleasant evening you two."