Embers

Chapter Fourteen

Feeling hurt and broken inside, Franklin could no longer follow Prentice anymore. The look of disappointment on his teacher’s face made him feel something that he worked hard to not feel, and that is being a failure. Even though he often failed, he came back stronger and hit back harder each time. It has been nonstop for eight years and even though he still has lots to learn, he never aimed for failure, ever! As Prentice was walking and left him behind, Franklin took a risk by heart and death and bid him a silent farewell and left the other way.

“Why couldn’t I just left the book right where I found it? Stupid!” He argued with himself.

“I can’t do this to myself, nor Prentice. I need to go,” he said inaudibly. He left to go the other way.

Franklin felt angry with himself. He felt angry at finding the book, and he felt angry at even opening and reading through the book. He wished he could go back in time and burn the book instead. Furthermore, he thought to himself, if the book brought on his failure, then it must be something that is horribly wrong or cursed with it. Not only that, but he has been walking, wandering mindlessly, not knowing where he was going as he drifted farther from their intended point of shelter. Unknown where he was, he found somewhere to give him shelter and hidden away from the naked eyes. He stayed and made himself temporarily comfortable.

“He didn’t even let me explain much. He assumed the worse of me.”

“Who does he think he is, trying to make me feel less than I am,” he gritted out and the more he pinched on his skin and twisted his fingers, the angrier he got.

His shelter was a curved log that had an opening, yet only it covered half of the tree bark while the other half rotted. His stomach growled, but he hesitated to reach into his bag for food. He huddled closer so the darkness would hide him from the leeches that was lurking into the night. Franklin thought if he stayed still or in one place, someone else would not discover him.

“Lichten,” he said, whispering. Dizzy sensations surrounded him as he asked for glowing lights around him only. He shook it off and opened the book. The same book he promised himself to not look into anymore was the one he was trying now how to reverse what he had made himself become, what he had cursed himself with.

The first few pages he read, he just noticed a few spells and black figures to accompany them. He saw warning signs at the bottom of some, but he didn’t linger too long to say them in his head.

“The spell to bring forth strength but it takes a life,” he read out loud.

“This seems too awful for someone to try. Who would do this?”

He hadn’t realized until now how demonic and dark the book was, blood spills, and sickening drawings. Wickedly, he tried one that says he could see the present five times faster.

Unfortunately, all it did was drain him more, nothing else. He got angrier as he felt stupid to try something that only made him weaker and more of a prey. Yet, his hunger to try it all didn’t stop. The pages started flipping on its own, stopping for him to see a capturing spell, and angry, he shouted them out without realising the consequences. After trying many that didn’t work, he began feeling lifeless, and so he continued trying each one, each time feeling more drained than before. He continued and searched each page until he found a few different pages. His head felt heavy and his mind not thinking about anything in particular, not surviving, not the voices whispering in his head, or the fact his feet were numb already.

There was clear and concise writing on the page, straight line, and black ink not spilled but well-placed with words. His eyes slitted, assessing the page as though he had regained new strength suddenly.

“Franklin,” said a hissing female voice.

“Oh Franklin,” it came out more urgently, in a sing- song voice.

The laughter rang through the air, feeling as though only he could hear it.

“Who are you?”

“Someone you would get to know really soon. You need to open your eyes. The book won’t read itself.”

“I am tired. Leave me alone.”

“Look, the book is telling a story now. Don’t you want to know?” The voice urged gently now.

The book floated up, and he read the pages. The voice hummed like a hummingbird feeding on nectar as he continued reading until the voice floated away.

It talks about a woman being unhappy. She seems like a woman of royalty. It must be the writer, he thought. It started off well with her explaining how happy her husband and her were and that they were expecting a child, then it changed to the struggles of living her life where she explained her husband sleeping with many women, more than one at a time, and how much he neglected her. She wrote she had thoughts about running away and that she wasn’t feeling too well. The baby was born, but it was a girl, and then it came to a stop, with a long ink blotch, and a few drops of blood. He knew it very well, and goosebumps rose on his skin. The ending wasn’t great for her. This is the testament of her life as they robbed her. The surrounding silence became thick as the bubble he cast around him felt suffocating with emotions. He felt as though this was to be continued or a cry for help, but he didn’t understand what this meant for him.

“Why am I feeling like this?” He thought, trying to fight to blurriness from his visions. He was feeling weak as it is already, tiredness coursing through his body in overdrive.

When he found that the few pages after that were blank, he continued flipping through, feeling better now, and the curiosity was reaching it full. A thin piece of paper fell out after flipping through some more pages, and he went to pick it up.

It was a girl. She looked young, and quite lovely, too. At the bottom of the worn piece, it said in bright bold red, missing. He assessed the picture a little more. She looked younger than he was, but what worried him he didn’t know how old the picture actually was. The wheels worked in his head like a madman, his eyes blinking like a flashlight whose batteries are about to die, but the stare he had on the gently smiling face in his fingers made him feel at ease.

“Who are you?” He asked as though the picture could speak, “Why are you missing?”

The paper dropped from his hand and fell softly on the book opened in front of him. Only then did he see the page had flipped from the night air on to another sketch, and one that looked eerily like himself. It was a sketch of himself; he thought astonishingly. It had quite a few pages of illegible handwriting, and it was hard to make out what it really said about him. Not only that, but it troubled him plenty, and it really tortured him even after squinting his eyes so much that eventually, they closed. It completely exasperated him now, and with anger, he closed the book and got up to get some air. Why was everything getting so hard? He thought. What could be easy in this life?

Dropping his guard for only a second, he found himself flying to a tree with an impact. He heard a sickening crack of his upper arm, and he groaned in pain. Seeing his arm slung helplessly down his side, and he knew he had broken it. It looked too bad for a sprain. He heard heavy crunching on the forest floor, and it was coming fast to him. The leaves and tiny branches crunch and piled to make way for the creature to pass. He rolled over and braced himself on his knees. Another force pushed him into the tree behind him once more. This time, the tree shook and Franklin fell down lifelessly. He looked around, but he wasn’t seeing anything.

“Meng en genees mijn lichaam, schenk kracht en licht,” said Franklin and he felt something took over him, raising him from the moldy ground and coursed through his body. Finally, with renewed strength and healing capabilities going through his body, he came face to face with his competitor.

“Treasure,” slithered the no feet bearing demon slave. Its mouth salivating towards Franklin, and it looked like an oversized animal who mutated in the wrong way.

“Today is not your day! Vuurbol!” Franklin screamed at the top of his lungs, pushing his two palms together.

The monster hissed and moved from side to side, waiting for the right moment of impact another blow to Franklin. Franklin moved his feet lightly as well. He won’t be the stable object, and easily taken down. The monster’s tail lashed out and Franklin dodged, rolling on the dead leaves, but was vigilant to see the other attack soon following after. Franklin’s hands were hot enough and with the third blow, the monster strike, Franklin strike back with a fireball he conjured up.

At this point, being this close to a giant fireball and its impact to the demon, it withered in place and combusted into tiny dust before Franklin's eyes. These things are quite easy to kill, he thought, looking at the pool of fiery dust at his feet. Dizzy and drained as he was, he felt satisfied.

Not knowing that this was an ambush, four others emerged from the thick bushes. These monsters, they looked like dragons, with a snake's body and needle tails. They looked deadly, but also mutated to the point that Franklin had never seen or heard about them before. Aiming their tails for attacking first, they stood in their fighting stance. Thinking of the spells which could be of use for strength or for a fireball, killing them all, it might risk his life as well. He won't have the strength to run away when the fireball launches.

He realized he needed to play it smart, so he assessed as they all gathered around him. Trying for the fireballs first with an even bigger impact, he aimed all around him and, with a blow like no other, he cast it upon them. It caught two, and bewildered as before how these things caught flames so quickly, puzzled him a lot. He wondered if this was their weakness and remembered to find out soon enough. How could that be, though? He keeps wondering. What kind of animal was this?

As the other scattered, he bent over, holding on to a tree to catch his breath. He still had two more to deal with and rose to his full length now.

“Ugh!” He cried out suddenly, seeing the sharp tail protruding his chest.

It suddenly became harder to breathe and every breath he took felt like he was scraping his lungs on bricks. Looking down at his abdomen, poured blood and retreating from his body was a bloody tail. Franklin felt the impact of the pointy tail as it retreated and entered his body, puncturing his flesh once more. Franklin looked up at the monster deviously looking him down. Its eyes were red and the snarls and hunches became more and more erratic.

Franklin got a closer look through his tear-filled eyes to see what the monster had brought him to his downfall. The monster looked as though he bathes in blood. It reeked, and black mist surrounded him. The shadows started covering everything green on the ground, from the leaves, to the shrubs, to the ivy.

Crumpled on his knees, still in shock as he bled profusely, Franklin thought, this is where his life will come to an end. The pain coursed through his whole body now, and he slowed his breathing to not increase the pain. He looked up towards the shy but saw nothing, only blackness. He blinked again, but nothing changed. The monster rummaged through Franklin’s bag and threw it a little away from him.

In his mind, Franklin was panicking. He couldn’t call out for help, he couldn’t get himself to move, but he saw something peculiar happened. Dying like this isn't a memorable way to go. He rolled from his back to his stomach and with one last flip; he felt complete silence. The smell of fresh air and saw a brighter light made him calm. He did not see himself dying on the forest floor without finding out what causes these things to attack. What are they? So many thoughts lingered in his mind, but one it finally settled on. Lily.

Shrouded in darkness, his mind floated away. Death can be easy, his mind explained to him. In only one second could he inhale his last breath.