The ocean pushed and pulled to the concave opening of Lodron Pral and its hen bay, the bells rang and ships departed as the usual routine everyone was used to. They followed the carpet of the sea out into the unknown and the farthest reaches of the plane. The trail of ships sailed through their usual path: from the coast it was an organized mess that structured itself the moment they left your sight, the vessels that returned came in a middle row, while the ones that departed covered the flanks of the route.
I woke up from my slumber and went on with my day. The moon stood guard with a dim green light illuminating the coming morning. I put on my uniform and prepared some eggs for breakfast. The uniform of the school for women consisted of a navy blue dress that reached the ankles, where it turned was black, and a white shirt under; we even could wear one with long sleeves if the weather required it. And don’t forget the iconic pointy wizard hat, blue in color and made to warn off shade and ruffians from powerful spells.
My father once claimed to me the uniforms of Laushore are more traditional compared to other schools, like the ones located near the Quriam Cliffs.
I waved my hat off to get rid of the dust that settled on it, and almost tripped with one of my shoes; something had rampaged as I noticed more and more of trinkets and clothes, from slight moves of the smallest of specks the amount of stuff being thrown and rearranged and more of the chaos grew around me, as I felt the heavy dragging of my bed and closet. And then it stopped. My room was a mess, but I have business to attend to, in the evening I can fix this, somehow. I’ll see what I can do. I’m sure Kindle couldn’t have done this, he measures out to 1 foot in height even if he stands upright, couldn’t he?
The rest of the house was even worse than I thought. The hallways were covered in webs, the wooden supports seemed rotten, and the air had a smell of seawater. The stair leading to the bottom floor creaked more than I remember, and on the second step, the slabs that held it together bent and broke and my foot got stuck and I lost balance. My head was going to land face first and I blinked out of reaction but no hit was heard. I was standing up, looking at the mess that was the living room and kitchen.
Almost anything that was made of wood had degraded, or had marks of vermin that roamed looking for food and shelter. A cooking pot held one of the legs of the dining table; the chairs weren’t nearby either. Most of the floor’s planks were missing or removed, the windows shattered showed the dark of the night but nothing else, as it would have been obscured by the amount of fog there was on the street.
And in the heart of what I could only describe as a young dragon’s nest, there was a small unfolded book filled with notes and scribbles, with leather covers and a red ribbon.
The curious me, of course, decided it was a great idea to come closer to the creepy book that seemed to be a catalyst for an occult ritual; what made me think that was a great idea? Was it something my deeper voice wanted to spout urgently? I looked at the pages unfold and there was a shard of a mirror. No cheap tricks or deep meanings, just me, the mirror and a whole mess of a house. My reflection looked like a paper doppelganger.
And then it grew, it’s tendrils that resembled curly hair grew and covered it’s eyes, now glowing in a white hue, and so did it’s size as a fog began to creep. A pair of leather-like wings spreaded wide as it now stood tall about thrice my size, a demon who was always there, waiting for my sight to catch it grand and terrible.
And then I woke up. That was a weird dream, I thought.
Three weeks or so has passed since my last entry, not many worthnothy events have occurred since I had that nightmare. We’ve practiced more of these rituals spells, not many of my classmates were able to cast their first ritual, which makes sense; it was odd that Laushore’s Library wouldn’t teach the basic of ritual casting first, but instead sent their untrained apprentices on a wild adventure off to find some sacred scrolls that explain how to trace dwarven sigils with an inkbrush instead of a painter’s brush.
Only Adri and I were the ones who were ritual casters of the group, and I would have been the only one to hold that title if we hadn’t met at the corner of the Boffinpots.
And how do you show proof you’re a ritual caster? You show evidence of course. Adri was the bravest of the two, and decided to show his magical sight first with the help of our counselor, who casted simple cantrips behind a wall of planks then asked Adri to guess the house of magic of what he conjured; and so he did; at least with enough precision for luck to not be blamed.
For my evidence it was easier, it was only a matter of showing the group my familiar, I concentrated, pushed my fingers in, and just as I released the quick motion both sound and Kindle were summoned. For some strange reason, something deep inside me hesitated to show Kindle, a little voice in me, something deep lurking in the hallways of my mind, something dark that spawned from our union as companions; it had control of my hand at some miniscule point while I held the snap, but even then, I kept control and finished my presentation.
Someone must have noticed that, right? The slight twitching of my hand throughout the small minutes of fame I had, may have been the nerves, but I believe it is related to that dream I had three weeks ago. I recognize it’s voice, it is the same foul creature that haunted me once and haunted me again in my thought, trying to decipher what it was. I’ll handle it later, feeding it may actually strengthen its grip on me.
My father should be returning back to work these following days, maybe I could ask him if he knows about it. He claims to have been an adventurer during his youth, he may have the experience to deal with oddities and monsters. Adri agreed to wait with me, and he brought his art supplies to practice profiles and anatomy, with me as his model. His reasoning? “You’re the only person I’ve met that can maintain a neutral expression for hours.”
And there we were, two youngsters between the shoreline of the city and the sea; one vigilant of any changes of the horizon while the sunset was blinding their sight, and the other vigilant of the other’s face while picturing their stern look. My nose could use some work, but he drew my hair decently.
The moon soon lifted itself across the sky and Adri had to return home. I stayed near the port, what was once orange at the horizon turned blue, then darkness merged the sky and waters, now peppered with speckles. It was only a matter of time before my hope ran dry. The sea is a dangerous place and will find any chance to backstab those that don’t believe in its power.
A bell was heard, a sign of a sail spotted in the distance; as it drew nearer its shape was now clearer that something had gone wrong. The sails, the heart that makes a ship alive, were torn apart, and dread shattered my mind. The few workers that were still there rushed to the scene to attend the wounded ship, and possibly those wounded as well.
I saw a familiar man, carrying someone unconscious back to those on land; his face was dirtier than usual and a bandana pale of color around his right forearm. Every time he entered the insides of the vessels a new person was on his shoulders. His name was Jordan Dalzedi, and he and the rest of the crew had survived a howling storm.