Unjust Demize: Book One - Return of The Father

Saga One: The First Saga

Given the somber blessings of a soft-gold sunset, the pair found treasured rest beneath a bronzing oak tree. The pair watch as a thin chain of flames flanked by black masses crest the horizon. A warm breeze rustles the oak leaves and uproots them from their resting place, scattering them about the landscape. A slight chill chatters the pair's teeth. Herron gazes into the depths of memory whereupon he is blinded by the visage of a coffered old man who produces a gold token. The wretched points with his bony finger past Herron's shoulder. 

A silverdripping candle melts slowly on the floor of a transcendent marble hall and the pillars of stark white ascend into the abyssal chambered ceiling hanging like petrified fruit above a museum enclave adorned with ghosts of ancient disease grasping enboned kidney-stones that echo the candledrops. Herron awakens from this nightmare to a blinding light. 

Plum-dropped grass blades nestle their hands as a wave of slumber overtakes them. Awakening, found nothing except a darker day and a colder air. What time do you reck'n it is? Herron lugubriously shuffles himself to an upright reliance on the oak tree. Huh? Herron questions. What time do you reck'n! Herron gazes into the drying sunlight, About... he lifts his palm to blind the sun, dinner time! Dinner time? I could fix me for some chicken indeed. Herron takes an eternal moment before blinking and standing at the level of his companion. 

Herron shoves his grit-filled palm face-down in the dirt as he struggles to raise himself from the ground. His partner stands still. Herron grasps at the air as he hoists himself up on his feet. Chombo, he asks, how are you assumin' we find our way home? Chombo stands still. 

The huddled men shuffle pass in the night with candles lit and lamps trimmed. The pair awaken as rain begins to fall and the scuffing of woven shoes on dirt dissipates at the horizon. 

With her palm she skirts the water off of her waxen tunic and seeks further shelter beneath the oak tree. Herron glimpses her nimble fingers flick a brief dance and a wisp of blue light extends upward from around her wrists. The light wanders for a moment, examining its surroundings and seeks its way around the oak tree. It caresses the leaves and forms a cover above the domed branches, diverting the rain over the edges safely away from the pair. The manacles. 

He knows he is not supposed to pry into her past but an odd compulsion of curiosity comes about him. "Ada," he inquires in a self-conscious whisper. She takes a moment to herself with a deep breath and exhales, "Mm?"  Herron starts, then folds down to look at the grass, "Nothin'".

"Up up." Ada slips the words into the air nonchalantly. She rises to her feet as small pebbles and bits of dirt free themselves from her knees. Herron follows suit. He looks up at her but she gazes out into the hissing hills. "Long walk ahead." Herron seeks approval with this statement. Ada withholds. She collapses the magic field and the rain shocks Herron's system. It's cold - this is northern rain - he thinks. Ada is unconcerned, she flicks a beam of light onto the slick grass ahead of them and they embark.