《Transference: A Bringers Tale》4A: Burning Witches and Moving Shadows
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Under the shade of the night, William eased the door to his house open and crept in. He backtracked to the door and slowly shut it. The moment the door closed, light illuminated his surroundings and he followed its source.
At a table with a lantern by its side, Bapholin stood with its arms on its sides. “And the prodigal son returns. Where have you been?” it asked.
“I-I got robbed.” He affixed his gaze on the floor.
It rested its weight on one leg. “Robbed? Robbed means your belongings were taken. Why do you still have those?” It gestured on the supplies.
“I fought back.”
“Say that again,” he requested disbelievingly.
He placed the sack beside the beast. “I fought back,” he repeated with more force and power.
“Does fighting back you come home the next day?” It began to inspect the contents of the sack.
“Why’d you disappear all of a sudden?” he retorted.
“It’s good you ordered the beetroot, we’ve been running low,” the beast answered, continuing to rummage through.
Seeing the interrogation was dismissed, William retired on a chair, leaned back and then tensed again. “Is father asleep?”
“He hasn’t come home since yesterday,” answered Bapholin. “I am to return by his side at tomorrow’s dawn. You are supposed to behave yourself until he comes back. Well supposed to.”
A tremendous amount of relief washed over him and calmed his senses. He had feared that Radulf was waiting for him, and he had been beyond angry. He had not known what to say or how to explain things to him. He could not even explain it to himself.
Bapholin pulled out a scroll from a pile of books on the table. “Your reward,” it announced.
His brows knitted. He straightened his back and picked up the piece of parchment. His hands felt the rough and decrepit texture of the paper as if it would crumble at the slightest touch. “Is this…” His eyes darted to one sentence after the next, digesting the meaning of the words and symbols written on each line. He had it. He had something worth trying—worth starting.
“I don’t quite get what the big fuss is about,” stated Bapholin. “So I got you the incantation you wanted. It wasn’t at all that difficult.”
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Ever since he was younger, he thought of his father to be a grand magician. A secret wizard that hid from the eyes of everyone. One morning as he came to, his father had been at the basement. And like any other day, he went to him to ask for his chores and errands to run, but instead he had found him with a corpse lying on the floor. He had spoken a language—words with extended vowels, meshed consonants and a lot of crackled noises of the tongue—and the dead came back to life. It was moving, talking and telling its secrets before its death. It had been like it had never died at all. At the sight of it, other people would had been yelling for fear and panic, but he was not.
William knelt in-between steps of the staircase on his descent, and seemed to watch something magnificent, like turtle doves released into the air or a grand birthday celebration of one of the nobles’ sons. As his father conversed, prodding and inquiring on a million things—which he did not care for the details—he birthed a dream. A dream that someday he would be the one conversing with the dead. That he would be the one who would sow life back together again and ask its deepest, darkest secrets.
Ever since then, he would watch from afar at his father’s amazing works. He had seen him conjure an animal made of bones, let blood swirl and cover a wound, see through the eyes of a soul’s past and more. Of course, most of the times, Bapholin caught him lurking in the shadows trying to get a good look out of the next wondrous spell. If it had not been for the beast’s laziness, he had already been chained and whipped for eavesdropping.
And now after all those times he stood in the dark, wishing, dreaming, he could finally create magic—even just a bit of it. “What does this do exactly, Bapholin?” he asked.
“Simple protection spell,” answered the beast. “Easy to do and useful when you are or someone else is in danger. Not everyone can do it of course.”
“Not everyone?”
The beast went to a pile of rags and lay on its belly. “No mere person can. But of course you can. You are the son of Radulf Howe, a powerful magician. In your veins lie the same powers. Ooohhh. Magician. Scary,” it yawned.
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“I…can do this?”
“Why don’t you just give it a try? Tired with all the questions. I need my nap.”
His mind buzzed as his heart beat fast. It might not be the biggest and grandest spell there was, but it was definitely a start—a start towards the path of becoming a true magician.
William opened his mouth to ask another question but stopped instantly when a cadence of shouts and flickers of light distracted him. He crossed the room to the window and peeked. Across the hillside, a number of people had gathered at Joan Altier’s house, carrying torches and pitchforks. They were shouting words that were too far to comprehend.
“Looks like a riot. Maybe it’s another hanging,” said Bapholin appearing by the window sill.
William knew Joan Altier because of her chicken recipes and pies. A year before, when she moved into her home, she’d ask him to come over to taste her home made dishes, and he instantly loved them. From then on, when she’d make something new, he’d be invited and be taught how to remake it. Though she and his father were rough acquaintances that couldn’t stand each other, William made it a point to always visit her and offer his help for any errands a man would be best suited for.
“I have to go see what’s going on,” he said as he grabbed a cape from the hanger and left the house.
When he reached Joan’s home, she had rusting chains around her ankles and wrists, and the queen’s soldiers were dragging her through a tight angry crowd. Rotting vegetables and fruits flew from all angles, hitting her everywhere—in the face mostly.
“What’s happening?” asked William to no one in particular.
“The soldiers are rounding out Protestants,” said a man with freckles all over his face.
“Joan’s not a Protestant. She’s a devoted Catholic,” protested William. “She always goes to mass on Sundays.”
“Yeah, hear she is. But she’s a witch too.”
“A witch? Her?”
“A witch she is,” repeated the man. “Heard she put a charm on a nobleman. They’re keeping his name under. Must’ve been a nasty one.”
“Joan won’t do that. She would never…“ William saw the end destination where Joan would lead to: a caged carriage. Inside, three people with drooped and familiar faces stared back at him, the Ameries: Catherine and her parents. But what caught most of his attention was the fourth person who sat on the back with her arms around her knees. Elise. Her usual cheery demeanor had been snuffed out and was replaced with a heartbreaking blank gaze.
The man with the freckles was blabbering something else he had heard when William made his way around the hating mass and straight to the carriage. He was only a few feet away when a soldier blocked him and held a hand for him to stop.
“Not any closer,” the soldier warned.
“Let me talk to her,” pleaded William. “She didn’t do anything. She’s not a witch.”
“That is for the queen to decide, not you. Go back, boy.”
He put his face right next to the soldier. “The queen? The queen doesn’t know her. I know her. And she’s not a witch.”
“I said go back,” shouted the soldier.
“Aren’t you listening? I said she’s not a—“
The soldier shoved him back, drew his sword and pointed it at him. “Go back,” he said sternly.
Bapholin popped right next to the soldier and yawned, “I’d do as he says. He looks serious.”
William turned from the serious face of the soldier and his blade to Elise in the cage. She found him looking at her and forced a bright smile. I’m okay, she mouthed.
The carriage door opened as Joan was pushed inside with the rest of the criminals. When the door shut, the soldiers mounted their horses and began to move the carriage forward. The townsfolk followed behind with a slow, peaceful march, but with snarling and hateful faces nonetheless.
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A Mildly Odd Reality Breaker
Omar receives an unexpected visitor who comes baring a gift—a "registration ticket"—in the form of a small metal card. The ticket is itself an offer to participate in the game, "Reality Break." Accepting this offer means that Omar will be able to perceive the true nature of reality where there is not one, but two dimensions of time, and in this second dimension history changes (and somewhat "frequently"). Along with this, he will also gain access to the "chronopause"; another reality that is not so much parallel to our own as it is perpendicular, which acts as both a place and the natural boundary between non-sequential points on the timeline. Using the chronopause, Omar will become a chrononaut with the ability to travel through time, and as a player, he will be given a cybernetic interface and his own portable extradimensional storage space. It's a strange conversation, but due to Omar's dismally short attention span, he only consciously hears that last bit about the portable pocket space, and that's only after the physics-defying void is opened in his living room and literally waved in front of his face. Reality is certainly stranger than most people realize, but then again, so is Omar. Thankfully, he responds well to shiny things, and for better or for worse, his chronic inattentiveness is the least of his psychological issues. Omar also has a mild form of "Oppositional Defiant Disorder" which presents itself as an occasional, arbitrary need to disobey others (especially authority figures). However, his oddest psychological issue by far is his "abnormally hyperactive" subconscious mind. Outwardly and consciously, Omar is a lazy, apathetic man-child prone to mildly asinine behavior. Subconsciously, he's some sort of genius capable of extraordinary feats of cognition. Most of the time, Omar is a (technically) functioning adult, but in order to live as such, he must rely entirely upon unusual abilities he's completely unaware of, despite the fact that he uses them regularly. Up until now, his life had merely been ridiculous, but now it was also a game. Note: The narrative style is that of a reliable narrator with a "3rd-person sarcastic" POV. This story takes place in the Reality Breakers/Chronopause universe.
8 142The Continuing Stories of Jo
Jo died. Met Life. Then wasn't dead. It's kind of an immortal type thing, where she can travel through space, time and reality. Oh and many of the stories revolve around her not being her but her in another life but not in a reincarnation way. Make sense? Good. ENJOY!
8 145Re:Interference- Did something go wrong with my Rebirth?
> The GOD made a simple offer. And the man rejoiced, and gladly accepted. However...something goes wrong, and instead of being reborn, the man wakes up inside a strange room in a ruined temple. > -NOTICE- This series is also available on my personal blog, along with two other series I am currently working on (blog exclusives). -NOTICE- CHANGE OF SCHEDULE- Due to some IRL stuff, I am forced to change the schedule for Re:Interference. Because of that, I will make two major changes to the schedule. First, I will be able to release one single chapter each week. Next, the release of it will be random. That means, one week I could release it on friday, the next one on sunday etc... whenever a chapter is ready (writing, editing, proofreading of 9000+ words) it will be released. If you read this, please do keep in mind that: English is not my native language (so, by all means, if you spot bad grammar/ wrong terms etc take your time to leave a comment, it will help me a lot) As this is my first attempt at writing a web novel (well...technically it's my second attempt...but oh well) please leave some feedback about the story. Any kind of feedback will be appreciated (unless it is just blatant, non-funny insult) Thank You for your Time!
8 503What did we do
Remus had always felt like he didn't belong, he had Janus but that wasn't enough for him. he wanted his brother's approval so bad that he would do anything to get it...anything.-------------------------------------------#1 in Remus angst#5 in unsympathetic roman#8 in unsympathetic Pattonall taken from the rank stats in 2/8/2021
8 138Accidentally traveling in the beastworld novel!
Elsa is an half european and half Asian,she is a very beautiful women.On day she accidentally fell asleep in the during dinner and when she woke up she found her self inside the novel that she have read .She traveled inside the novel of called "Beauty and the Beasts ".How will she survive in this new world"
8 203YANDERE HARRY POTTER ONESHOTS
Ever wondered what it would be like if the Harry Potter characters went yandere over you, dear reader? Well, you can find out :) I don't own the characters or the pics that I use in this book and I hope you enjoy reading it :)
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