"Time raced at the speed of light in this mystical land; its swift passage threatening my grasp on sanity. The line between reality and mirage began to blur, making it increasingly difficult to discern the true nature of my surroundings."
∞∏∞∏∞∏∞∏∞∏ ----- ∞∏∞∏∞∏∞∏∞∏
"Mother, what happened next?" Jiya asked Rue.
"Wait honey, let mumma have some water." Rue replied.
"Mumma?"
"Yes, honey."
"You used bad word."
"I am sorry. Mumma will not use bad word."
"Baby, Mumma has done a lot of bad things back then." Rue said to herself. A mischievous smile lightens Rue's face.
Jiya smiled and asked again, "Why that faerie hates us? And how old were you?"
Clearing her throat, Rue replied, "You will know. Let's continue our story. Come sit next to your mother. And for second question mumma was a silly teenager."
Kissing Jiya's forehead, Rue continued her story. All she was thinking it is going to be very hard to control her swear words. She has to be creative.
Jiya get up from the floor and lay next to Rue.
Rue continued her story.
∞∏∞∏∞∏∞∏∞∏ ----- ∞∏∞∏∞∏∞∏∞∏
Under the scorching heat, we were battling the relentless sun over our head. All we wanted to get inside the forest. However, our attempts were failed, as were under a spell to not to leave this land.
I cannot let them win. I surveyed our barren surroundings; help came in the form of large rocks and the skeletal remains of trees. With a spark of ingenuity, I constructed a makeshift refuge. A shabby shack for both of us.
Before entering through the portal, I picked the journal, 5 marbles, a feather, delicate wings, a broken wand and a mysterious black stone. Thanks to God, that I decided to bring two sandwich and a bottle of water.
I gave sandwich and water to my grandpa and asked him to rest. We have to survive this land. With limited resources, we have to be very careful.
One thing was sure, this place was not for beginners. And to know more about this place I need to read this Journal.
Wrapped in the leather cover, journal were pages tarnished by the time and dust. It has the story of our town.
I opened the journal, flipping through the pages. I stopped at first page. I can see the impressions of words on it but no ink. As if they were erased.
I flipped through a few more pages, encountering several entries, though none concerning our town. There were detailed entries on the visits to various locations, most notably a place called "Seinaha." Then, suddenly, there it was...
∏∞∏∞∏∞∏∞∏
1796, 12th December
Driven by the enchanting stories my mother shared, I left my home and city, embarking on a quest to uncover their truths.
Europe is famed as the original realm of Faeries. Unlike gods or goddesses, Faeries were their aides, barred from our world, why? A superior divine force, knows humanity's complex nature.
Humans, capable of profound goodness, are also fundamentally animalistic, tamed over millennia by laws and customs.
Humans are the puppet of their situations.
And my thirst to learn the truth about these stories has brought me to this another peculiar town known as Westbury.
When I reached in this town I met the chief of the Town, Mr Gilbert. They own a hound who is somehow famous for his ability to walk on two legs. Some call it Magic some call it black Magic. Either way it was due to Magic. And this has given me the chance to stay in the town.
After listening my stories Mr Gilbert has allowed me to live in his house as long as I want. Such a pure soul helping people who are suffered in the war.
A month ago, when I was sitting in the garden, sketching the beauty of this house a peculiar noise from the kitchen caught my attention... A dark, smoke-filled cloud hovered unnaturally. Bizarre and unsettling!
At first, I thought it must be Ms Aliya, housemaid. However, I heard her talking to Mr Gilbert's wife, helping her in gardening.
Hence, I decided to check the kitchen. The unsettling feeling of fear grasp my chest.
Upon entering the kitchen, it appeared empty, as though no one had been there at all. Yet, as I scanned the room, my eyes caught sight of white pebbles lying near the water pot.
Curiously, these seemingly ordinary pebbles were not what they appeared to be.
In the days that followed, I combed through the entire town and the surrounding forest, searching for stones similar to the ones I had found. It was unsurprising, yet still disappointing, to discover that such stones were nowhere else to be found in this town.
Their texture suggested they were not stones at all, but something far more intriguing, they resembled eggs of some creature to me.
O Theós na mas evlogeí
na mas sósei apó to kakó
∏∞∏∞∏∞∏∞∏
A-WHAT?
I turned to the next page, curious to see if he had drawn anything. Indeed, there was a sketch, not particularly detailed but significantly clarified by its labels.
Upon closer inspection, a realization struck me, prompting me to rummage through my bag for five marbles. It's important to note that I knew almost nothing about this town. My move here was for a summer vacation with my grandfather before starting university, and now, I find myself veering far from my intended summer vacation plans to learn about this town.
I couldn't ascertain the accuracy of the traveller's claims. To someone as unacquainted with these matters as myself, they certainly didn't seem like stones. They could be capsules, tubes—anything, really, though I was also skeptical about them being eggs.
"Should I delve into the next chapter?" I mused. Perhaps there, I would find more clues.
Before continuing, I glanced outside. The sun giving way to darkness. The day had been blisteringly hot, and now the night was so cold it felt like time itself might freeze. "How are we, mere humans, to withstand such extreme weather changes?"
If only I had known what I was stepping into, I would have come better prepared.
"What now? A fire?" I took a deep breath, gathering some wood and attempting to spark a fire by striking stones together. Great, I mused, reduced to living like our earliest ancestors.
One thing was clear: those faeries, as beautiful as they may be, were going to pay.
From all the striking, my grandfather woke up. He looked tired. I've often pondered whether someone could be so in love that they'd leave everything behind to search for their beloved.
The stories about him, told and retold by my family, painted a picture of a man driven by an unyielding love, earning him the label of 'crazy' from the villagers. Yet, my parents believed in him, instilling in me faith in this old soul. All he desired was a sign of his wife, a hint that she was out there, which would bring peace to his restless spirit.
I remember, at ten years old, one summer when he visited us, appearing more like a vagabond than the grandfather I knew. His beard was unkempt, his clothes tattered. He stayed a month before venturing deeper into the Appalachian woods.
During that visit, he shared stories from his travels - tales from every corner of the globe, imbued with the wisdom of the ages. I was captivated, too young to grasp the depth of his sorrow, seeing only the grand adventure in his quest for my grandmother.
One night, I caught him weeping as he clung to her gown. His tears stirred something profound within me, leading to a night of shared sorrow and a resolve to aid his quest.
Despite my eagerness, my parents' concerns kept me close to home, yet I spent the next seven years gathering any information I could.
Catelyn city, renowned for its academic pursuit of such mysteries, drew me to enroll in Catelyn University, majoring in History and Mythologies From Around The World. My goal was to prepare a thesis that might somehow lead us to her.
This visit to the town, meant as a prelude to my studies, hasn't gone according to plan. Yet, it seems to be steering us toward a discovery that could bring my grandparents back together.
I smiled at my grandfather, now awake. "Hi, Paa, you're up? The night is beautiful here, isn't it? More serene than back home."
"Yes, my child, it is beautiful," he agreed, with a chuckle adding, "And much colder than ours," before sitting beside me. He helped me to light a small fire pit.
Despite the chill, we relished the view of the night sky, finding comfort in its tranquillity. We lay on the cold, barren land.
"Here, pull this over," he said, handing me a shawl. Wrapped in its warmth, I looked at him, puzzled.
He grinned. "After traveling for four decades, you pick up a few things."
His readiness, contrasted with my lack of preparation, made me realize I had much to learn from him. Grateful for his presence, I couldn't help but think how lost I'd be without him. The faeries, had they the chance, might have danced over my frozen remains.
"Paa! Did you get a chance to read the journal you brought from the Archive?" I inquired.
"No, child. I didn't find it of any use to me. Why? Have you read it?" he responded.
"Yes, I did. Just one entry. The traveller mentioned his first encounter with suspicious activity in our house."
"That's why I didn't pay much attention to this journal."
"But, Paa, he vanished into thin air and left this journal behind. Why?"
"That's the question we need to answer. There are two possibilities."
"And what are they?"
"He either fled because he was afraid, or he was taken by rebels or faeries."
A heavy silence fell between us.
Was he murdered? If so, by whom? And if he fled, from what or whom was he escaping?
"What are your thoughts?" I asked, only to find he had fallen asleep again.
As the weight of sleep began to press down on my eyelids, I surrendered to it, only to be startled awake by a humming sound.
It grew louder, signalling an approach. The night remained dark, the sunrise a distant promise.
I nudged my grandpa; he was already alert, pistol in hand. And me? Armed only with a broken branch hastily picked from the pit. Ouch! It is hot.
The humming intensified, and through the darkness, a mist approached, extinguishing our fire pit in an instant.
"Paa," I called out, my voice trembling.
"Shh. These shadows can hear us. Stay here. I'll check it out." He whispered.
No, no, no. Don't leave me here. Clutching my makeshift weapon and the shawl closer, I braced myself.
Why won't this creature reveal itself? Whatever it is, it undoubtedly poses a greater threat to me than I to it.
"RUEE!" Grandpa's voice cut through the tension. I looked towards him, just as he vanished into the darkness, engulfed by the mist.
"RUN, RUE, RUN!" His voice urging me to run was all I could hear.
"PAA, WHERE ARE YOU?" I cried. How could I run, and where? Above all, I couldn't bear the thought of leaving him behind.
"RUN!"
"NO, I won't leave you!" I charged towards the sound of his voice, only to stumble into a pit.
∏∏∏∏∏
<a/n>
I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'm thrilled to share that I've qualified for the first round of ONC2024. YAY!!!
**Update:** Please take a moment to check out the characters chapter, where I've introduced Grandfather. I believe he's the ideal fit for a grandfather in a fantasy novel.