Book #2 in the Chrim Chronicles series
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The second book in the Chrim Chronicles occures in three different worlds that collide in an inevitable war.
The reckoning is coming.
I...
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Neviana Moreau, drawn by the talented and amazing SullivanJude
Neviana Moreau
A blue butterfly fluttered above Grandpa's face, then landed on his nose. From afar, the butterfly looked splendid, bright blue wings adorned with red and yellow specks. The glimmering rays of sunlight shining on the butterfly added another touch of magic. But when I slowly leaned in towards the butterfly and observed it more carefully I noticed that it was a foul looking little thing. The pair of black eyes stuck out, covering nearly the entire head, and its scissor-like mouth made the butterfly look wicked. Its decorated wings served as a decoy, I grasped, distracting everyone from its true ugliness. It made me smile, because it reminded me of myself.
My grandfather coughed and the butterfly flapped away. I watched it fly against the window, over and over. If the butterfly would move slightly lower it could fly out of the window, but instead it just kept hitting itself against the same spot over and over. Some animals are truly stupid, I thought to myself. I turned around. The big bedroom smelled musky and sour, like old people. On the cold stone walls hung dozens of frames of our ancestors and current descendants, even my picture hung there. A loud cough startled me for a moment and I turned to the old man. Apart from a few meager strands of hair he was bald, and the blue veins crossing his bald head underneath the skin had always looked chilling to me. That disgusting bald head of his made me fear old age, and though I was only ten now I knew that the days of creepy veins lay ahead.
Grandfather's eyes stood dull as he looked at the wall across from him with parted lips. He mumbled something I could not understand.
I shoved the chair I was sitting on closer to his bed and laid a hand on his forehead. "How are you doing, Grandfather?"
"I've been better," he managed to mutter, and coughed once more. On the dark wooden nightstand next to him, matching his bed, stood a glass of water which I brought to his lips and carefully lifted his head. After a few sips, he leaned his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes. "Has anyone managed to find Karver? Is my boy alright?"
"He's in Chrim, and he wants to stay there." I took his hand and laid it between mine, then leaned in closer to him. "Grandfather, Karver isn't coming back."
Grandpa nodded. "He will be back. Eventually."
"Have some more water, Grandfather, it will help you feel better." Holding up his head, I helped him drink it. A few drops trickled on his chin, which I wiped away with my sleeve. I sat down on the edge of his bed and watched him with a deep frown. "How are you feeling, Grandfather? Is there anything you need?"
"Thank you, my sweet child, but I'm feeling worse as the moments pass." The old man coughed and slapped on his chest. "Give me some more water, child."
