Barnania and the Twisted Tales

Chapter 30 How Far It Goes?

John Peter

One. It confused him.

Two. It broke him.

Three. It shocked him.

Four. He's standing face to face with the young face of a person he knew and there's something about that person that he wanted to approach him, not that he knew it was Arthur but it is something about connection, an aura that seems to consume him, inviting him into entering a friendly circle, the person was simply looking buoyant.

"Who are you?" He asked in suspension, he knows that this person in front of him is not Arthur from Barnania. The man only looked at him as if probing him, rolling his dark eyes constantly.

"My grandchild, come forth thy great father child." The man exclaimed.

"I don't know you," John replied dryly.

On the nearby dead looking tree which he didn't seem to remember growing amidst the facade in front of their house he saw his mother, her violet glowing hand glued on its trunk, her mana flowing towards the tree. On the other side he saw familiar faces, Ariadne with Marcus and Maricar. Enchantress in a black cloak, standing motionlessly, other women who he doesn't know and the white fairy who is flying and battling Fatima as they're moving towards the courtyard.

"I am Audumla," the name was so powerful that it shook the earth and it stirs up memories running inside his mind. Toxic memories that drove him into confusion, they're stinging. . .he starts to scream, he gripped his head, covering his ears, the memories are so powerful, dark memories which aren't his own. . .the curses, they're crawling like parasites, infesting his mind. He saw Joreyna, tied in bed a spell shot at her, the pain that lingers in her body was transported to him, twice more painful, it cascaded to his senses. He screamed again, the pain only intensified, a combination of a stinging of a burned flesh and the wrapping of a migraine. He saw the younger version of himself, only it wasn't him, it was his brother, his pain when the curse hit him that time doubled as it tormented John now as he was moaning in the facade, writhing like a slug put to a pool of salt.

"Stop this!" He screamed.

Time seemed to slow down as the world around him revolve furiously, the colors of red, gold and purple in the sky were ripped off, replacing it with a sky blue colored clear sky, a peaceful sky. The torment was over, he stood there back at the hill and saw it all, the changes happening so quickly like a flipping book. The old Barnania, once a peaceful place, then slowly it was covered with taints as endless war for power happened, afterwards, after the long years of wars, it stopped. . .the truce. The flashes of images stopped then it focused on the image of young Arthur riding on his broomstick, it was the young Arthur not Audumla, he was the one who brought peace to the land cloaking the old one under the mists of peace. But it didn't last long. What has he done? The question reverberated in John's head. The scene fast forward. John saw Arthur forming ripples through the cloak he created, it was absurd, he created an image of himself, with his equal bearings, but with the exact opposite soul. Arthur created a nemesis of himself, a dark one. Then it started again, the cycle of blood shed. The messed is messed again. The fabrications have started, creatures were born: the demons, the wolves, beasts and other creatures from the blood magic of witches, the dark power dominating. Then the writer tried to trick Barnania again, he pushed another spell to cover the world with another fabrications, trapping the old one under the lining over lining of falsehood, until he made a mistake again by letting some fabricated truth from the past to escape from the lining of falsehood. Then the cycle repeats again. . . it's happening now and the writer has ran away from it, hiding from another lining he fabricated, another false world he created to escape reality.