Muinaru : part 1: The Edge of Darkness

Full book available at: https://www.inkitt.com/stories/fantasy/431010
The Fall of the Frontier
         The morning broke and shimmers of golden light streamed from the sky and over the mountains. The tops of mountains were hidden under a thick mist and the base of the mountains were surrounded by blossoming trees. The sky was peaceful; however, the peace was quickly broken by an unwelcome gurgling-roar echoing in from beyond the mountains.
The thick mist at the top of the mountains began to swirl and twist and large shadows within moved closer. The mist broke and outburst a convoy of menacing grey aircraft. The convoy was made up of many small one-manned sized fighters positioned in an arrow-tip formation around a juggernaut of an aircraft. This large aircraft required four propellers across both of its huge wings to keep itself airborne. The chopping propellers roared loudly over the landscape, as the convoy glided on towards a city in the distance.
This distance city was made up of mostly short buildings, reaching only about five storeys high. They were made from bricks and tiles, which came in an array of earthy colours. Most of the windows of the buildings were small, no taller than a metre, and were made from multiple panes that were adjoined together by an interlocking white wooden frame.
The city was very green. Its streets were lined with may trees and dozens of large parks were positioned around the city. This gave a home to the many birds and insects, which could be seen fluttering from the branches whilst they sung and hummed.
The whole city was built on a large island within a large lake, with several smaller satellite islands sat around. The lake was connected to a windy river that flowed in from one side of the city and out of the other side. This river was one of the main trading-routes for the city as indicated by the great number of docks and cranes that over hung the waters. Although, the ships still laid anchor at the docks in this early hour of the morning, sailors were already preparing them for sail.
The entrance to the city was limited to either ferry or by crossing the two large bridges, which were located on either side of the city. There was a third and fourth bridge, but they were still being constructed between the two other bridges. The current bridges were connected to a very wide cobblestone-road, which ran from the surrounding land and through the city.
The cobblestone roads of the city were nearly empty in the morning hour as the wave of aircraft approached, apart from a few horse-drawn carts delivering milk and newspapers. These cobblestone roads were lined with rows of parked cars, which all looked very similar: triangular front-nose, large wheel-arches on either side, a soft fabric-roof, white-trimmed wheels, and, lastly, two large circular-front-headlights.
The outer regions of the of city were covered by long green-fields. The fields were bordered by man-made rivers, which drove through the land in straight lines, joining up to each other. There were a few villages and groups of houses out in the fields. Most of these houses were small cottages, accessible only by a dirt road.
Suddenly, a loud siren broke over the city and echoed across the fields. Quickly, a brigade of red aeroplanes shot over the city. They flew on towards the convoy of suspicious aircraft. The loud roars of the red aeroplanes drew crowds out onto the streets and to their balconies. They gawped anxiously at the machinery in the sky, watching the red aeroplanes drift to the flank of the invaders.
The path of the red aeroplanes was quickly intercepted by a few dozen approaching aircraft, which peeled away from the group. As the aircraft dove, they fired a barrage of red-hot bullets. The red aeroplanes were torn down within seconds and fell in a torrent of black smoke. The few stragglers tried to return fire, but the invading forces were too many. Inevitably, the few lasting stragglers were also shot down and crashed into the fields in a horrendous explosion of twisted metal.
The city's walls had become lined with a row of armoured vehicles. All had two large canons that pointed up towards the sky. As the invading convoy came in range, the armoured vehicles discharged a rapid bombardment of explosive rounds. At first, the bombardment was successful and shredded dozens of invading aircraft, which crashed down into the lake. Yet still, the small fighters continued to advance and soon reached the defensive line of armoured vehicles. They began dropping hundreds of small but deadly missiles. The missiles blasted through the armour of the vehicles and blew shards of metal across the city, shattering windows and cracking bricks.
Once the city's defences were defeated, the juggernaut aircraft moved over the city unchallenged. Large panicking crowds now ran out onto the streets, fleeing towards the two bridges. However, the bridges weren't designed for such a sudden exodus, and hordes of people and cars became bottled necked at the entrances. The crowds pushed and shoved, squishing themselves together shoulder to shoulder, whilst the cars honked loudly as they became stacked bumper to bumper, unable to move.
The juggernaut aircraft moved into position and a hatch at the bottom slowly opened. Once the hatch was fully opened, a large missile dropped out. It sailed down towards the city with a haunting whistle, like a high-pitched scream. Just as it neared the roof of the central building of the city, it detonated and the city was immediately engulfed in a blinding flash of light.
The bright light slowly shimmered away, revealing a great tower of fiery smoke swelling up into and across the sky. The smoke rolled out over surrounding fields, spewing hot ash onto the crops and cottages, setting them ablaze. The fire quickly spread through the fields and continued out to the rest of the small dwellings, which sat on the outskirts of the city.


         By late morning the ash had almost completely settled, but the ground still seethed with fire and smoke. At this time, a woman rode out from the hills along the road. She was riding on cart drawn by a strong horse. The woman was huddled in a thick furry coat, and her head was wrapped tightly within a thick scarf, which surrounded her pale face that radiated with a hint of blue. On the back of the woman's cart was a stack of lavishly decorative trinkets and garments, all packaged neatly, ready for the eager eyes of her customers.
Her cart came to a slow stop on the peak of a hill. As the woman gazed across the land, the corners her mouth dropped. She surveyed the expanse of rubble, scorched earth, and beaches of ash. She did not move but remained frozen in shock.
After a few minutes of motionlessness, the woman reanimated and jumped down from her cart and into the long grass. She strode to the back of her cart and pried out, from a secret compartment, an extendable brass telescope. She opened out the telescope and pointed it out across the fields to examine the cottages.
She saw a badly burnt cottage not too far from her. The windows were blackened, the walls were charred, and the roof had completely burnt away, leaving only five standing roof trusses, the others had collapsed into the building.
Suddenly, one of the few trusses left standing gave way, crumbling into the building. A cloud of dust drew up into the sky and the crackling of wood echoed out across the grass to the woman. As the fallen wood settled, a faint cry from a child sailed through the air.
The woman quickly unravelled her headscarf, revealing bizarre appendages upon her skull. She had no hair but in instead rows of short but thick tentacle-like-appendages, which were bent stiffly over from the top of her forehead and back to the base of her skull. The tentacles were pale but slightly bluer than the complexion of her pale face. The woman propped her ear in the direction of the building and listened; she waited until again a faint cry sailed on the wind.
Quickly, she rushed back onto her cart and whipped on the reins, driving her powerful horse on towards the building. The cottage was much larger than what most village farmers owned, but the woman didn't give any thought, she immediately ventured through the doorway and peered inside. The building was filled with broken bricks, splintered wood and shattered glass.
She shed her coat, revealing her strong and lean build. She had a set of hatchets attached to either side of her belt, which were connected, by the base of the handles, to metal cables, which lead into a cylindrical device on her back.
She called into the house and listened, but there was no response. She called again and this time a small cry for help rippled out from the darkness. "WHERE ARE YOU?" the woman shouted. The voice cried out again and the woman followed it through the crumbling cottage, carefully navigating herself over the shards of glass and lethal splinters wood. Eventually, she stopped in a gloomy corner of the building and listened. She heard a whimper and a sniffle from the fireplace. She quickly clambered over to it.
The fireplace was blocked by many planks of wood that had crumbled down from the ceiling. She gripped the planks and pried them away from the fireplace, so that she could peer into the small gap. There, curled up in the firepit, sat a small child; the child's knees were pushed up to their chin and their head was covered with a large tricorn hat.
The woman greeted the child with a soft hello and they looked up with a small frightened expression. It was a very young girl; her eyes glistened with tears, of which a few drops had run down her cheeks, creating two clean streaks through the dirt that covered her face.
The girl gave a trembling smile of relief as the woman waved through the gap. "Hello," the woman said as she waved, "I'm Corzye." The girl remained silent. Corzye explained, "I'm going to get you out, alright?" Again, the girl remained silent. "I'm going to make a gap wide enough for you to crawl through, okay?" The girl nodded. "When there is a big enough gap, you crawl out as fast as you can, don't be afraid, just get out as fast as you can, understand?" The girl nodded and wiped the tears from her cheek, smearing the dirt across the face.
Corzye gently laid the planks of wood back against the fireplace. She unsheathed one of her hatchets and pulled out a length of cable, which was attached to the base of hatchet's handle. She pushed against a pillar, testing to see if it remained sturdy, then she threw the cable and hatchet around the pillar. Afterwards, she marched back to the wood that covered the fireplace and wedged the hatchet into it. She then began to pull on the cable, gripping it tightly in her leather gloves.
With each pull the wood shuddered, moving slowly from the fireplace, until finally, Corzye had created a sizable gap between the wood and the fireplace. The little girl shot out of the fireplace like a spooked mouse, scampering out on her hands and knees. As soon as the girl was clear, Corzye released the cable, and the wood smashed down onto the mantel. The collision shook the house, which worryingly creaked and groaned, but the wails gradually calmed and silenced.
Corzye exhaled in relief as she sheathed her hatchet. She smiled at the girl and asked, "Are you okay?" The girl nodded but looked away to the ground. Corzye stepped forward and quickly hoisted the girl up onto her back, she explained, as she began clambering back out of the building, "We need to get out of here quickly before the place comes down."
Once outside, Corzye sat the girl on the cart. As she rubbed away the tears and the dirt on the girl's cheek, she noticed flecks of green amongst the deep purple in the irises of her eyes. Corzye smiled and remarked, "What beautiful eyes you have. Very unusual."
The girl said nothing, offering only a shy smile, which quickly disappeared as more tears dripped down her cheeks. The girl shivered and clutched at her arms as she peeked at the scorched landscape. Corzye enquired, "Are you cold?" but didn't wait for an answer and immediately reached back for a decorative coat from her cart. She wrapped it around the girl and fastened the buttons. The coat was beautifully made; embroidered with a trim of vibrant golden flowers. Even though it was a small coat, the girl still drowned in the amount fabric.
Corzye smiled and consoled, "Sorry, I don't have anything more your size, but it'll keep you warm."
Corzye removed a decanter from underneath the bench and asked, "Are you thirsty? It's just warm water." The girl accepted the offer and sipped cautiously.
Corzye asked gently, "Do you have a name?"
The girl nodded and said very softly, "Zelesa."

2
The Little Charred Book
         An aggressive layer of clouds haemorrhaged a monsoon of rain down on a small blue car. The windscreen wipers screeched wildly back and forth, swiping away the rain, which washed over the glass like a waterfall. The car eventually turned into the driveway of a large manor house. The driveway was sheltered under two rows of trees that grew parallel to the road, but the rain still managed to smash through the leaves, and pools of muddy water collected in the many divots of the old driveway.
The driver tried to lessen the impact of these divots, which violently shook the car, by moving slowly. The car finally stopped opposite an impressive portico that extruded out from the front of the manor. The portico was only accessible via a narrow stone pathway that was bordered by large overgrown hedges.
The car's engine stopped but the doors didn't move. Sat in the driver's seat was a middle-aged man with four-day stubble, a pale face, and tired looking eyes. He peered out of the window up at the grizzly sky. The rain was heavy and made large rippling puddles across the courtyard in front of the manor.
The man pulled out his phone and tapped the weather app. He frowned as he put his phone away. He turned his head towards a young boy, who was sitting next to him, and announced in an English accent, with well pronounced 't's, "No connection; must be down because of the storm or something." He exhaled loudly and turned his gaze to the backseat, where a woman laid. She was sound asleep and snuggled inside a blanket. The man said, "let's see if the rain eases up." He smiled warmly at the boy, patting him on the shoulder, which turned into an affectionate grasp.
They sat calmly, waiting for an hour before the rain began to ease to a moderate spitting. "Erik," the man whispered, "Could get my umbrella from the boot?" The boy nodded enthusiastically and jumped out onto the cobblestones. The rain didn't seem to bother Erik, in fact he rather joyfully pulled his coat over his head and ran to the boot of the car, where he retrieved a lethal-looking golf umbrella that was tipped with a threatening spike.
He quickly rushed back, handed the umbrella to the man and wheezed, "Dad, here." The father smiled and tousled his son's damp hair before opening the door on his side. He speared the umbrella out into the rain and pushed the button, opening the umbrella with a satisfying thulump! The umbrella was rather big, opening out to a very wide diameter.
"Erik," the man called as he bent down and looked back into the car, "I think I'll need you to carry the umbrella, so I can carry your mum. Can you hold it high enough?"
Erik nodded and answered, "No problem." He quickly clambered across the driver's seat, clasped the umbrella from his father's hand and held it as high as he could.
The man cradled Erik's mother into his arms, keeping her snuggled in her blanket as he curled her up to his chest and rested her head against his shoulder. He tried to crouch underneath the umbrella, but when he saw his son bearing the rain, who was attempting to keep his parents dry, he smiled and said, "Just hold it over your mother; I don't mind my hair getting wet," He smiled and added, "but try not to poke my eye out." The father leant back and Erik held the large umbrella under his father's chin, sheltering his mother as they walked up the steps to the portico.
Once they reached the shelter of the portico, Erik quickly collapsed the umbrella and unlocked the door, using the set of old keys that he had retrieved from his father's coat. The lock was stiff and clunked loudly as Erik turned the key.
The front door was made from solid wood and was fixed to the wall with a set of steel hinges, which were covered in grime that had accrued over the many years of neglect. The weight of the door and the stiffness of the hinges made it difficult to move. Erik was forced to apply his full body weight to open it, which, being only a young teenager, was not much.
Eventually, with a straining creak, the door shifted, rolling open into a grand entrance hall on the other side. Quickly, Erik's father rushed inside and departed with Erik's mother to one of the rooms. Erik remained in the entrance hall, gazing up into the darkness of the of the high ceiling. When suddenly, as he was removing his raincoat, a stream of golden light flooded into the entrance hall. A rift had opened up in the clouds and the sunlight seeped in through the doorway and the gaps of boards nailed across a large circular window, which sat above the front door.
The light bounced around the walls and up to the ceiling, illuminating a grand fresco above. The fresco was cracked but the image was still clear. It was a scene of thousands of white birds cutting through dark purplish-tinted clouds. The birds circled increasingly tighter into the centre towards a bright-green gem.
Suddenly, a rumble of thunder rolled in from the distance and Erik's gaze was instantly drawn outside. The sky gleamed with vibrant shimmers of blue light and quickly another rumble of thunder followed. The newly found anger of the storm swelled and the rift was sealed by large clouds, obscuring the Sun once more and plunging the entrance hall back into darkness.
The boy's father rushed back in at that moment and announced, "No darn electricity. It was supposed to be turned on." He huffed loudly then jolted out into the rain. He ran to the car, pulled out two suitcases and staggered back indoors with them. Once inside, he dropped the suitcases at the foot of the staircase, which sat in the centre of the entrance hall. He rested with his hands on his knees and panted.
Erik moved over to help unlock the latches that sealed the suitcases. Once opened, the father began rummaging inside the suitcase, until finally, he pulled out a box of candles. He dropped them into Erik's hands and dove back into the suitcase, pulling out this time a small lighter. "Give us a candle," the father asked. Erik quickly tore way at the cardboard, making a small hole, from which he slid out a single candle stick. He offered the candle to his father but he didn't take it, instead he grabbed Erik's hand and squeezed it tightly around the candle. He sparked the lighter and ignited the wick, which quickly absorbed the flame.
Erik flinched as a dribble of wax ran over his knuckles and his father chuckled, "Could've done with some candle holders. I should've thought about that, but I didn't think I would actually need these. You alright?"
Erik nodded, "I'm fine, it's not that hot."
His father took the box of candles, lit another one for himself and commanded, "follow me." They moved off through the dark hallway to a cosy room at the end. Erik's father began placing the candles around the mantel of the large fireplace, dripping a pool of wax on the surface and squishing the candle stick in the pool, to fix it in place.
Lying in the centre of the room was Erik's mother; she was snuggled up in her blanket, sleeping on an old sofa with faded fabric, which was embroidered with an old-fashioned floral pattern. In front of his mother was the unlit fireplace, which was filled with a small heap of ash from a past but recent fire.
The father stooped down and grumbled with annoyance, as he gazed at the firebox, "The chimney sweepers could've cleaned it out after they tested it." He turned to Erik and asked, as he passed Erik the lighter, "Could you make a fire; there's some wood in the corner." He explained, pointing to a stack of old splintering logs, "I'm going to get my suitcase." he rushed off once again down the hallway.
Erik approached the logs and cradled a few into his arms before carrying them to the fireplace. He knelt onto the hearth and dropped the logs inside the firebox, which dispersed a wisp of soot into the air. As Erik waved his arms, fanning away the soot, he noticed a corner of a small book peeking out of the ash. He pinched the corner of book between his fingers and carefully lifted it out of the soot.
The book was only small, no bigger than his hand and was badly burnt. He dusted the soot off the book and examined the edges. The cover and the outer pages were charred and unreadable. He quickly flicked through the book and examined the insides, most of the pages were blackened, however there were a few pages where upon he could make out some tiny handwritten text, and a few detailed technical illustrations.
Before Erik could investigate the book further, his father returned to the room, stumbling through with one of the large suitcases. Erik quickly slipped the book into his pocket and continued to light the fire. He crumpled up a few balls of paper for kindling and ignited it using a tube of paper, which he lit the end of with the lighter before gently dipping it into the scraps of paper. The flames ravenously consumed the kindling and began chewing into the wood with a soothing crackle. Eventually, the fire bloomed and bathed the room in a warm orange glow.
His father groaned as he stooped to the firebox, placing a large bottle of water down by the hearth, along with three large mugs and a metal pan. He dropped the pan into the edge of the flames and filled it with water. As he twisted the pan snug into the embers, he whispered, "Where there is a will, there is a way ... and there's always a will for a cup of tea." Erik's father fed a few more pieces of lumber into the fire before he sat back and waited for the water to boil.
Once the water boiled, Erik's father threw in two tea bags to brew and gently stirred the mixture until the water turned burgundy. He poured the tea into two large mugs and handed one to Erik, along with a complimenting chocolate biscuit.
The father sipped at his tea and he gazed at the messages on phone before he announced, "Sophie's caught in traffic. Says she'll come tomorrow morning." He sighed and gazed at his wife. His eyes glistened in the firelight but quickly he rubbed them dry and croaked, "All that driving has hurt my eyes; the dim-light isn't good for them either."
The father looked at Erik and suggested, "Go get your suitcase. I think its best we all sleep in here with the fire." He grabbed a torch from his suitcase, handed it to Erik and asked, "Will you be okay getting your suitcase by yourself?" Erik nodded with a compressed smile and left his parents alone, but not before grabbing another biscuit for the road as he left.
He wandered into the entrance hall and stopped at the foot of the staircase, where he gazed up at the landing. It was lit only by a few streams of faint light that bled in through the cracks of the boarded-up windows.
He huffed and placed his tea down on a nearby table, before carefully opening the suitcase left by the foot of the stairs. He took out a pillow and a quilt. He then removed the book from his pocket. He gave the book an inquisitive smile before placing it into his suitcase.
3
Restoration
         Erik awoke to a dimly lit living room. He was curled up in a thick quilt and his head rested on a thick pillow. He lifted himself up and looked over to his parents who were lying on the sofa. His father was asleep, as was his mother. Her head was against his father's stomach and she was wrapped tightly within a blanket. They laid across from the fire, however the fire was beginning to die, providing only a little warmth.
Erik quickly grabbed a few logs and placed them on the fire. He poked at the ash with the metal poker and the flames began to rise out from the embers. Within a few minutes the fire was once more crackling and filled the room with the much-needed warmth and light.
Erik heard a vibrating noise humming over beside his father. He looked over and saw his father's phone moving about slowly as it rumbled on the floor. He walked over and saw the name Sophie on the caller ID on the screen. Erik quietly answered the phone, "Hello?"
A female voice responded, "Hi ... Erik?"
"Yes."
"It's your aunt."
"Hi."
"Hi. Is your father there?"
"He's asleep."
"Asleep? It's quarter past ten. Never mind; I'm standing outside can you let me in."
"Okay. See you in a bit."
Erik pocketed his father's phone and grabbed the keys, which were sitting on the mantel of the fireplace. He walked to the front door of the entrance hall and unlocked the door, which, like the night before, clunked loudly as the lock was released. Sophie was standing on the other side of the door.
She smiled and quickly rushed inside and picked Erik up off from the ground, giving him a warm hug. She elated, "Wow, look how much you've grown. You were So little last time I saw you. You're getting tall, few more years and you'll be taller than your father; I bet. Where's Lisa, urm, your mother."
"She's asleep too, in the living room with Dad. I didn't want to wake them."
Sophie wandered inside and walked quietly down the hallway. Erik followed close behind. Sophie peered into the living room and looked around the walls. She smiled and whispered, "I guess we can let them sleep." As she guided Erik back to the entrance hall, she proposed, "How about we get some breakfast, I know a nice place nearby, would you like some bacon and eggs?" Erik nodded very gleefully.
Sophie quickly took out her phone and explained, "I'll send a message to you father's phone explaining where we've gone, I don't want my sister to worry about you. Do you know where his phone is? I don't want it chirping off crazily and waking them up."
Erik pulled out his father's phone and explained, "I've got it, it's on vibrate."
Once Sophie had sent the message, they left the manor and stepped into Sophie's small red car. She commented, just as they drove away, "This house gives me the creeps; it feels like a haunted house." She asked, "Did you feel scared during the night, sleeping here?"
Erik shook his head and replied, "Just a little cold."
Sophie chuckled and explained, "Don't worry, they'll have the caravan here soon. That should be nice and warm. It'll be warmer than sleeping in this place."
After a short five-minute drive, they arrived at a small cafcalled Cafde Carte. They sat down and, after placing their order, Sophie asked, "So Erik, how's school going?"
Erik shrugged, "I don't know."
"There must be something."
"I'm doing okay, I guess."
"I'm sure you'll do even better at your new school." She sipped her tea and asked, "Were you sad to say goodbye to all your friends?" Erik shrugged again. Sophie asked, "Did you have a close friend."
Erik shook his head, "Not really, I just played football with the guys at Lunch. I don't really do anything after school."
Sophie nodded and added, "Not much too do in London anyway, just a smelly place with lots of crime." She smirked and admitted, "I never liked cities, but your father does. I like nature; trees, birds, not bins and rats."
Erik nodded, "I think I'm the same. Most of the parks near me are just concrete sports courts."
Sophie nodded but quickly she smirked and asked, "What about a girlfriend yet?"
Erik rolled his eyes, shook his head and replied, "No."
Sophie presented one palm of her hand and explained, "When I was your age I ..." She abruptly stopped and waved her finger as she conceded, "You know ... you shouldn't have a girlfriend. They're nothing but trouble. Boys do stupid things for a girl." Erik rolled his eyes again. Sophie wagged her finger once again and explained, "It's true, one day you'll understand. You're becoming quite an attractive young man, so you'll soon be getting the attention of the girls." Erik cringed and looked away. Sophie chuckled and conceded, "Okay I'll stop."
The waitress brought over their food. Erik's meal was a quite large full English breakfast, whilst Sophie dug into a modest meal of eggs Benedict. Erik asked, as he cut through a sausage, "The house is still filled with loads of stuff. Why didn't the people who lived their take it with them?"
Sophie shook her head, "Far as I know it was just one man who lived there. He actually just disappeared. No one knows what happened to him. It was nearly ..." She hummed, "ten years ago, I think." She tapped the table before adding, "Actually, it was in the local news. He didn't have any relatives, so the council ended up owning it and sold it off. I remember people used to say he was the spitting image of his grandfather, who had owned the house before he died."
"Oh." Erik nodded, "Dad says it's going to become a hotel."
Sophie nodded, "Yes, they going to make it a fancy hotel. So, they want to refurbish all the old decorations."
Erik quickly strayed, asking, "Can I not stay with you and mum?"
Sophie sighed, "I wish I had the room. But don't worry you can visit whenever you like. You can come after school. Plus, your dad will need some company." Erik nodded and turned back to his breakfast. Sophie quickly asked, "How is your father anyway?"
Erik swayed his head as he sliced up an egg, "He's been down a lot; doesn't talk much."
Sophie asked gently, "What about you?" But Erik said nothing and shrugged. Sophie gave a kind smile and explained, "Sorry, not really morning conversation. But ... if you ever need someone to talk to, you can talk to me. You know that right. After all, your mother is my sister, I do know how you feel." Erik nodded but again remained quiet. Sophie smiled kindly and changed the subject, "So, have you looked around the house? Is it nice inside? From what I saw it looks pretty grand."
Erik shrugged, "Urm, it's alright."
"My god, you should become a poet. I practically felt like I was there."
Erik rolled his eyes, "What do want me to say. It was dark. I only had a candle. There was a weird painting on ceiling."
"Painting?"
"Like ... lots of birds flying around in a circle. It looked strange."
"I guess so. The guy who lived there was strange, so I read. Bit of a hermit. He didn't go out much." She hummed and asked, "Will you be glad to be sleeping in the caravan. It'll actually be warmer."
"Yeah, but when everyone finds out they'll call me a loser."
"No, they won't."
"I know ... it'll be worse than loser."
Sophie chuckled, "You worry too much."
After they finished their breakfast, Sophie bought a few croissants and some pain au raisins, as well as two take-away teas for Erik's parents. As they drove back, the sky swelled with angry looking clouds. Then, just as they neared the manor, a curtain of rain smashed down on the car and lightning flashed in the sky. Sophie squealed at the sudden roar of thunder. She chuckled nervously, "Sorry, I wasn't expecting that."
The rain continued to fall heavily and drowned the streets, creating large lakes of water over the roads. Eventually they made it back and Sophie stopped her car as close as she could to the entrance, just behind Tom's car. She looked to the back seat and huffed. She began moaning, "Urg, I left it at home."
Erik wondered, "What are you looking for?"
"My umbrella. I'll get soaked just from walking to the front door."
Erik laughed, "Don't worry I'll get our umbrella."
"But you'll get wet; don't be silly."          
Erik explained, "All my clothes are here; I can just change." He opened the door to the roaring sound of the rain. Erik smiled, "Be back in a sec." He jumped out and quickly ran inside. He grabbed the umbrella beside the front door and quickly ran back to the driver's door of the little red car. He opened the umbrella and waved Sophie out. She slowly opened the door and ducked under the umbrella. Both quickly jogged to the front door.
Sophie thanked Erik, whose hair was soaked, as was his jumper. She giggled at the sight of the rainwater running over his face and hands, which formed a pool around his feet. She smirked, "You should quickly get changed."
Erik's father rushed to the front door. He gazed at the two with a confused looked and smiled at Erik, "Why are you the only one that's wet?"
Erik explained, "Sophie forgot her umbrella so I ran inside and got ours."
Sophie stepped forward with a smile and greeted, "Hello Henry, I got you guys some pastries and teas." Henry happily took them from her with a thank you. Sophie asked, "Where's Lisa?"
Henry replied, "She's still snoozing in the living room. I should probably wake her. She should eat something. We only had a cheap burger from a service station for dinner."
As they walked off to the living room, Erik took his suitcase, which still sat by the staircase, into another room, for privacy. He opened it, revealing his neatly packed stock of clothes, and the little charred book sitting on top of everything. He placed the book beside the suitcase and began to extract a change of clothes. However, he abruptly stopped and looked at his hand. It was dry. He twisted lips and hummed before he shook his head and proceeded to change his clothes.
He pulled his soaked jumper off first and threw it carelessly over the little charred book. Erik was about to pull off his wet t-shirt, but he stopped when he noticed steam rising out from his jumper. He slowly walked over and gazed at his jumper. Suddenly, it burst into flames. Immediately Erik knocked the jumper away to the centre of the room and began stomping out the flames. The small fire was quickly doused by the beating of his foot; however, the jumper was ruined.
Erik muttered to himself, "What the hell happened?"
He turned and looked over to the little charred book, which had been under the jumper. He approached it slowly and observed the little book. It had changed. No longer was the cover completely blackened from a fire, but instead, it was partially blue with a crinkling texture of leather. Erik rubbed his damp hair as he moved closer to the book.
He reached forward and picked up the book with his now damp hand. Very quickly the book began to heat up. It became so hot Erik was forced to drop it. He looked at his hand. It was now completely dry, once again. He looked at the book. The cover was now marked with the print of his hand made of blue leather.
Erik gawped at the book as he once again rubbed his hand into his wet hair. He slowly pushed his wet hand down upon the book and within an instant the moisture steamed away. Erik yanked his hand away from the heat and examined it. It was again dry. He touched the book with his now dry hands. Nothing happened, but he could see second-hand print made of blue leather on the book.
He muttered. "What on Earth..." but did not complete the thought as he placed the book back into his suitcase.
He continued to change and once in dry clothes, Erik sat down and opened the book. He looked for any small amount of readable text, but it was too charred. He closed the book and examined the cover. He moved his hand slowly across the new blue leather imprints of his hand.
Curiously, Erik smirked and jumped off his bed. He rushed to the bathroom, approached the basin, and filled it with water. He held the book above the water as he pursed his lips, gazing at the ripples in the basin. He nodded and slowly he submerged the book in the water, pulling his hands out quickly.
He waited ...
He waited still ...
Nothing happened.
He was left looking at nothing but a drowning book, flaking away under the water. Eventually, he pulled the book out. It was left in a dire state; the pages were soggy and the ink was bleeding out like a river into the basin.
Frantically, Erik grabbed a towel and began blotting away at the cover. However, his efforts were in vain and the blotting only made matters worse, as the towel did nothing but lift the ink from the page, yet still Erik stubbornly persisted to dry the book with the towel. He rubbed and dabbed away at the pages only breaking them up further.
Eventually, he stopped and lifted the deteriorated book. He muttered to himself, "Why not?" As Erik looked at the book, he heard the tapping of rain against the building. He twisted his lips as he looked at the book. He looked at the window again and smiled. He retrieved a pan from the kitchen and went out the front door. He looked out at the rain, which was falling down heavily. To the side of the portico, the gutters were overflowing and rainwater streamed over the roof.
Erik filled the pan up under the stream before he retreated to the kitchen. He placed the pan on the counter of the kitchen, beside the sink. He placed the book inside and plugged the drain. He took a cup and scooped out the water, pouring it down over the book.
The water boiled away instantly and the sink became filled with steam, like a spooky cauldron. The steam overflowed out onto the counter and slowly drifted away into the air. Once the steam had dissipated, Erik investigated the sink.
A little blue book sat in the middle of a dry pan. The blue leather was now clean and stiff looking. He reached in and flicked the pages. Many were now repaired but not all. Quite a few pages were still singed and some ink still bled across the page. Erik scooped another cupful of the rainwater and slowly dribbled it over the pages. He watched the pages become once more white and the ink rise out from the page as crisp new text.
Once fully repaired, Erik took the book out of the sink and felt the texture of the cover. It was smooth, dry and warm. He flipped the cover and examined the enriched bold-black writing and the crisp white pages with golden edges. Written in the centre of the first page was the title, "Kingdom's Compendium of Luth. Written by Dr M. P. Kingdom."
Erik suddenly tore the page out and dipped it into the pot of rainwater. Nothing miraculous happened, instead the ink ran from the page, like a normal handwritten book. Erik then took a shallow cup of the rainwater and poured it over area of the torn page. Instantly the water steamed and the page was rebuilt before his eyes.
For a long minute, he gawped at the book, but eventually, he sat down at the kitchen table and began to read the inside pages. He reread, "Kingdom's Compendium of Luth," and muttered to himself, "Luth?" He shook his head and opened the book, proceeding the introductory page that read with the following entrance, "... this book details territories of great vastness, natural phenomena beyond current scientific reception, and the fantastical beings of great diversity of physique and temperament, of which exist in both the state of nature and civilised." Erik hummed, "huh?"
He continued to skim down the introduction very quickly but suddenly he stopped and read carefully, "I knew I had found something special when an image of a creature, like nothing found on Earth, drank from the lake in the reflection but was not present beside me and, additionally, I was not present in the reflection beside it. This phenomenon only lasted for a moment and faded as the beat of my heart began to abate." Erik repeated with confusion, "Abate". He quickly searched the word on his phone and groaned, "Ooohhh... slow down." He carried on reading the book, "Moments before this spectacle, I had fallen from a threatening height and injured my wrist. I was fearful it was broken, which would have been a dreadful situation alone out in this particular forest. Thus, I was in a dark state of mind when I came across this projection in the water ..."
Erik was interrupted by a call from Sophie, who was demanding his presence. He quickly closed the book, returned it to his suitcase, in the room, and left to find his aunt and parents.