III
“Run, run dear child your life depends in it” the old man whispered to himself nose deep in a book with quill to one page.
Each day seemed the same, a routine dictated by other, voiced by the others and for the others. Or at least they claim. The tiniest of smirks arose on his inner cheek because he knew better. He knew the truth
“The truth is on the page” he always chanted.
The very ugly truth, the outcome of this unstoppable force that was breathing its first breath this very night. Only he knew, he made sure of that, each night when the visions came he was compelled to express it. Alixandr was a prophet through written scriptures. He was one of the more common and vital prophets of the Atheon. Dictating critical information about the times soon to arrive. These visions though, we somewhat different from the others. He had no way of explaining. Just something within himself told him to put all the energy he could to this task. Raising his weathered face from the tome. He blinked his eyes trying to adjust to his surrounding, putting all of his weight on his desk, it wasn't very much to begin with, he hoisted himself up, you could almost hear the moan of pleasure escape his mouth between his cracks of his back.
“Hmm. Only twenty six?” he humbled to himself before planting a foot by the wall and spinning himself to the opposite side. Catching the chair he called his Throne of Enlightenment, he tugged ever so slightly.
Pop!
“Ahh sweet mother how I forgot how the twenty-seventh feels like.”
Suddenly feeling alive and youthful, he sprang from one foot to the next, landing silently on his toes. Even Boots, his black tabby cat didn't hear him land.
“Should pay more attention boots, or the world will just flash right by you” he mocked pointing a finger at the cat.
“Muurrow” boots replied rolling onto its back and stretching all fours.
“Excellent idea!” Alix shouted. “Tea is in order.”
After the fidgety old man made the tea he sat back in his throne as a billow of smoke left his mouth, “Say boots, have I ever told you the story of how I helped defeat Rekooni. The Underlord of Death?”
“It’s a good story. Remind me to tell you one day” he muttered before drifting into a deep dark sleep.
“Stop!” He yelled repeated as he left his deep sleep. Arms flailing trying to find support in a world not fully remembered.
Diving his head back into his book he wrote
Stop!
Please stop child were all the audible words That exited his mouth before he fell back into the dream like state, where he wasn't exactly sure what was and wasn’t real. All he knew was she had to escape.
*****
Hush my child, don't cry tonight
I'll be here, into the good night
Don't let your fears and worries betray you
I'll be here into the good night.
Take back your dreams, your hopes and life.
He will save us, he is the white knight
Hush my child don't say his name
For evil is lingering, it isn’t a game
My hero my hero I feel your warmth now.
Take this child and leave with a bow.
Protect her, save her, live with her soul
Remember the times, so just, so old.
When our heart burn with the flame.
Down will come black knight.
Rekooni’s soul be damned
Tears filled Sarah's words as Jennifer's body became cold to the touch, her eyes just staring out at the world, at what the world could have been. If only her hero heard her words, heard her prayer.
Heard her cry for help.
She heard a rumble from above her, wiping away her tears she looked to the skies, as if her words were heard, and help was coming.
“Thank you, thank you!” She cried.
“Such fools!” She heard.
Suddenly like the drapes being pulled over the windows, her entire world darkened, back to reality, the light was gone; her spark was replaced with such fear; And anger. She looked up at the rumbling again, to see a chuck of opal cascading off of its pedestal, directly towards them. At first her instincts grabbed Jennifer and tried to pull her away. It’s true what the say about dead weight, she thought.
Oh, dead.
She released her hands, bent over and whispered “I’m sorry Jennifer”
She bolted to the door way, just as the stone made contact. so distinct the sounds of bones being crushed, so nerve racking, that during her escape, without missing a single step, she vomited to her side squinting at the pain and sound. Given the fact she was part of the servants at the kingdom, she was allowed access to quarters and wings other weren't allowed; Protected by magic she was able to cross the wards and barriers some couldn't, even the powerful men of the hands. This gave her an advantage to get away from this torturous place.
Away quickly.