An Incomplete Book of Incomplete Works

The Good Lost: An Excerpt

A/N: This was meant to be a scene set further down the line in the story. I don't remember the specifics of it anymore, but Jack was meant to be thrown down in the "dungeon" to stop him from finding out any secrets.

"W-who are you?" Jack asked, obviously shocked that anyone would be down here.

From the darkness, Jack could only make out that he was much taller than him but also much skinnier. "I could ask the same to you," he responded. The voice was not rough or creepy as Jack had expected, in fact, it was actually quite pleasant. It had a slight sarcastic tone when he responded. The shadowy figure of the male stepped closer and Jack could hear the clanging of metal on concrete. "I don't get very many visitors -- even on my best days."

Jack hesitated for a moment. "I'm Jack. I didn't exactly choose to be done here. B-but that doesn't mean I wouldn't want to, y-you seem like a very pleasant person and all."

The figure chuckled. It was full of heart. "You don't have to flatter me. I realize this isn't under the best of circumstances to meet someone, and besides, I haven't been very considerate. Allow me." He whispered something in a language Jack didn't recognize and suddenly there was light. "There we go. That must be better on your eyes."

Jack was too stunned to thank him. He was focused on the ball of light seeming to dance on the other male's fingertips. It swirled inside itself and sparkled better than any amount of glitter dumped onto a child's craft. It almost seemed like the manifestation of magic itself. Then Jack's eyes turned to hand holding the ball of magic. It was frail and dirty. His fingernails were chipped and plastered in whatever mess was down here. Jack continued down the hand to the wrist, bound in a cuff, to the shredded mess of clothes clinging to an arm. He looked older, but not much older than Jack. His face was narrow, his cheeks hollow, yet his eyes were bright in contrast with the rest of his pitying figure. It was hard to ignore the fact that this boy wasn't receiving proper care. "I'm Merlin, by the way," his voice pulled Jack out of his thoughts. Jack flushed when he realized it must have been awkward to have some stranger stare at you in silence.

"N-nice to meet you," Jack cursed his own embarrassment. "How long have you been down here? I-if you don't mind me asking."

Merlin's eyes sparked with curiosity. For what reason, Jack didn't know. "It feels like I've been down here forever," Merlin answered honestly. "I don't remember the last time I actually saw light of any kind."

"Why? What reason is there for you to be here?"

Merlin paused for a second; he seemed hesitant. "I am the keeper of the Dragon."

Jack choked on his air. "Dragon?" Surely, he couldn't be serious. There was no way a dragon could be here. Dragons weren't even real.

"It's called Dragon Isle for a reason," Merlin said as if he was answering Jack's thoughts. "I am the only one who can keep him at bay."

Jack was unable to respond. Was there a proper response to that? All his life he was told that dragons did not exist -- that magic did not exist, yet both were here. When he really thought about it, it was silly not to believe. Here he was, a boy who could see the future, and he didn't believe in dragons. "What is the dragon for?" Jack settled on asking.