The eerie creaking of the door unraveled a dark gift of a home, and all Jayce could do was stand there in terrified awe. Long wooden boards hid away the outside world, bolted firmly against every window and opening. Dirt and grime abused the ground beneath it, and the air smelled strangely familiar...
In a very very bad way.
Jayce walked forward, dragging his feet subconsciously in an eager attempt to slow down: to push away the moment where the smell's derivation would be revealed.
His small broken heart beat feverishly. The silence was an overwhelming sound only disturbed by his dress-shoes and the dirt scraping under them. Moving by piles of discarded scrolls, books, pieces of clothing and wooden spoils of food, Jayce knew all too well what had happened, and he feared having to approach the ultimate results.
The house was trashed, as if a herd of wild animals had carelessly ravaged through. Looking at open and dismembered desk drawers, their insides savagely peeled out, hints of anger melted into him and Jayce's temper was too unstable for a thing like that.
He clenched his fists, perhaps too tight. He continued pulling forward, perhaps too soon.
The body that was in front of him...perhaps too alive.
The old man lay on his back, blood covering every inch of his tattered tan skin. Jayce stood motionless, eyes shot with more fear than he was comfortable feeling. Hands shaking, he tried to speak, but his lips were sealed by shock and shock is so terribly stubborn.
After a million years, the poor old man opened his gaping mouth in the loudest most horrendous scream of silence. His eyes, red, swollen, and painfully awake, drove Jayce to run forward, falling on his knees and into the fresh lake of blood. The old man strained his throat for words but received only more blood, coughing it out in agony as his whole body shook with pain.
Jayce muttered the old man's name, holding his bloody face in his hands as tears formed in his eyes.
"W-what happened?" Jayce asked, his shaking voice so small and gentle, it didn't sound like his at all.
"The-" He began, before the violent coughing fit conquered him once more. Jayce cried silently, as he watched his old friend suffer, not being able to do more. The pain he felt inside was unbearable.
"The same folks who took you... from me..." he managed, fresh tears running down his face, clearing away a bit of the blood. If Jayce was shocked before, he most certainly wasn't now. Soldiers in the army, as Jayce very well knew, hated even the mention of magic or witchcraft. They must have found the old man's abilities and tried to...
"They tried to kill you..." Jayce spat, more anger unraveling inside him.
"And...stole my books.." the old man said weakly, closing his eyes as if remembering the gruesome scene. Jayce knew how dear his spell books were to him and a fever of guilt ran over him almost instantly.
"I shouldn't have let them take me...I should have stayed here..." Jayce muttered, knowing that if he stayed, no one would have laid a finger on the old man.
"Not your...fault, child..." He whispered, opening his droopy, bloodshot eyes.
"They didn't take it all...Jayce..." He added, and Jayce had a clear idea of what was left behind by the cruel soldiers. Jayce hesitated only a second before seeing the old man's glance of admittance. He hopped up and ran towards the corner of the room, lifting an old wooden floor panel to reveal a secret compartment. There it was: the Master Spellbook: It belonged to the old man for many years, and he added it to it constantly. If anything at all, it was the most precious thing he owned.
YOU ARE READING
Reign of Discord
Fantasy"Do you remember, Jayce?" Echos all around and he is awoken once more. "Do you remember?" He turned his head aimlessly, checking his visibility for the hundredth time. The voice, rattling in his injured head, kept repeating the same question, asking...