After laughing himself to death, Cael finally calmed down. He sat back on the couch, feeling as if he had won something greater than a Nobel Prize.
He reached out to the mug of coffee, taking a sip of the now-cold coffee.
But just as fast as it touched his tongue, it came out right back out of his mouth.
"Blurgh... this tastes worse than a graveyard puddle."
He set down the coffee on the table. A question hanging in his mind; although he had accomplished something in these damned years — what now?
What is there to progress? The question remained unanswered, as he was lost in a sea of thoughts. Progress doesn't mean success; it means improvement.
Therefore... There must be more than merely carving incantations in this cursed tome.
Just as he was lost in the abyss, he heard a soothing voice — it was barely audible, weak, but he managed to make something out of it; "come...".
The voice said.
"Come..." The voice said again.
"Come... and see the world for yourself... and welcome a new chapter of the scribe's destiny... come..."
He looked left and right, trying to figure out where the voices were coming from. He himself doubted that it might just be him hallucinating, that he might have lost it completely. But the voice is too clear, too loud in the deafening silence.
He stands up abruptly, knocking over the coffee from the table, but he doesn't have time to care.
Cael kept on searching, he placed his ear on the wall, checked inside the fridge, and turned on the radio, but nothing was there. Yet the voice keeps on ringing the same invitation.
He went to the window and opened it wide, and the voice was getting clearer. He can sense it. There was something out there, waiting for him.
However, he hesitated, arguing with himself whether he should chase the sudden voices. But perhaps... It might just be the key to his questions.
So, he takes an empty bag hanging on the wall and brings along the gospel and the quill with him.
As he walked out of the apartment, the night street of Paris was bustling with people chatting, walking, and loitering. Yet the voice was just as clear to him. The voice is guiding him to the west, as if he can see the voice itself.
He started walking towards the voice; every step was steadier than before, and with every step, the voice kept getting clearer.
He bumped into several passersby on the way, but he didn't have time to apologize, not even if they called out to him. He kept on walking.
For a long dtime he chased the voices blindly, until he stopped in front of a park. He remembered, he used to go to this park when he was a child — not to play with the other kids, but to run away from the cruelty and expectations at home.
"Home sweet home..."
With a heavy heart, he stepped inside the park. It was empty at this hour, but he swears that he could hear children playing and running at the park.
But then, he stumbled upon a familiar spot — the playground.
It used to be his sanctuary where Cael used to study on the swing all alone. But it was also the place where he was frequently bullied for being a loner, a nerd, and a freak.
But in those dark times, there was a girl who always spoke up for him, shielding him from other's cruelty. Yet he can't remember the girl's name, only ;a glimpse of her feature remained in his memory.
Slowly, Cael approached the playground, touching the slide and the rusting swing. Every touch reminds him of her and the time they shared together, not as a lover neit h,er, a partner, but two people who were hurting.
Suddenly, he saw someone at the corner of his eyes, a man in a black and red cloak was sitting on the bench under a street light. The man was holding a book somewhat familiar, could it be...?
But just as Cael tried to reason with the possibilities. The man's gaze suddenly landed on him.
The man stand up and walked up to Cael, like a predator circling its prey.
Cael's instinct told him to run, but his legs refused to comply as if he was frozen in place.
"I have been looking forward to this encounter..."
Once the man was right in front of him, he takes off his hood, revealing the person underneath — red eyes, golden hair, a distinct smells of lavender, and an imposing aura.
"Cael Ravel." The man said
Cael's eyes widened. Who is he? How come did he knows his full name? He can't remember meeting with someone like him.
The man however just, smirked wickedly, clearly enjoying the horror in Cael's eyes.
—Penning a new chapter...