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Guys, do you know what's holding me back? It's this last part. I want it to be perfect. I could have written one long update this morning and then comes the part you've been waiting for.. I'm scared however. I don't want to kill the story just before it ends.

So, forgive me. I may draw on or just plainly write it. It would depend on the state of my mind. I've got so many ideas running amok in my head like an athlete on a treadmill.

It will come out soon enough. I have to warn you though, I may write something and pull it off again if I don't feel it's right. George has to....


Ooops... I almost gave away spoilers.

Lemme go already.

#MadeOfMore

What would I do without magic? The staff gone and now my magic? Is the batte not lost already?

Mr. Logan patted George on the shoulder. This was after running a hand through his own hair a number of times. It would seem he'd lost hope too. The realm was gone already. George could imagine the smoke rising from the ashes, everything burnt down with fire, just as he'd dreamt.

The room was dimly lit with a gas lantern hanging loosely from the wall. As he stared at it, he could only imagine the screams of people as they realize that their families were no more android that they too would be soon gutted by the same flames that had destroyed their loved ones.

It was dawn already but the drapes hadn't been pulled back. It felt like everyone was trying to hide from the reality that the Solstice was to kick off in few hours.

George got up from the sofa. Mr. Logan gave him an affirmative nod as he left the sitting room for his room where he'd be free to think. As he passed by Mr. Logan's room, he heard the faint sound of someone sobbing. Fresh pangs of guilt washed over him as he hurried on to his room.

He met Cordelia inside. Her eyes were swollen, her hair a mess. She just sat there on his bed as George studied her features, his eyes fixated on hers. She looked down when she could no longer stand him and instead focused on her fingers. She kept scraping at her thumb that George feared she would draw blood. He walked slowly to her and sat beside her on the bed.

They stayed there for minutes, no words said. George didn't know what to say. He knew he should comfort her but how was he to do it? Tell her that everything was going to be alright? He barely believed it himself. The only thing he could do was take her hand in his. She turned suddenly and drew him into an embrace as she began sobbing. George could only wrap his hands around the small of her back. He could feel her heart beating against his chest. He wished something could be said, done to reassure her.

"I'm so scared George!" He shut his eyes and
squeezed them. The pain he felt was more emotional than physical. It was like an incision had been made on his heart and the blood allowed to drain slowly.

He pulled her tightly, his own tears beginning to build. " I am too, Cordie!"

Divepen1:
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All these names. Compiling them brought tears to my eyes as I remembered how they took our imagination places. I almost stopped reading foreign books because I encountered their stories.
Let's get their thinking juice up again.

Thanks for the mention. I feel honored.

Thanks for the following everyone. Six years isn't child play. I've been as inconsistent as kilode but you've been there all the same. Thank you.

I've enrolled for the NaNoWriMo writing challenge which kicks off first of November. The goal is to write consistently, everyday for one month. I hope I can go through it. I'll try to bring whatever story I work on that period here. I'm hoping you'll still follow me there. If you'd like that, just reply and I will endeavor to mention you when I begin. It will be fantasy as well.


Wish you well!

#MadeOfMore

"That was stupid. You keep making stupid decisions." This was the harshest of the criticism he'd been getting and he knew he was as guilty as he was being charged. Nora was visibly angry, her hands shaking even as she pointed the accusing finger at him. She stormed out of the room, not giving him room to explain.

Harris had not yet recovered from the corruption. His hands and feet were still sprouting tendrils for fingers. He was sorry he had acted out of anger. He shouldn't have left Harris in the wild knowing how difficult it was for him to defend himself. All of this was his fault.

Everyone was avoiding him. He could tell it to even if if he some didn't say anything. Nora was the only one who'd he spoken to him since that night and that was two days ago. She was the one most affected, obviously so. She'd been as close to Harris as George has ever seen and he hated to be the one to cause her pains. He wished things didn't always go this way.

Even Mrs. Ivy was snubbing. She'd come to his room, dropped his food and had gone away without the usual 'Hi'. George didn't know how much more he could take. Everything was falling apart. He didn't know what was going to happen. The battle they'd been preparing for, the battle that brought them here was just a day away and they were in disarray. How do you win with disheartened and discontented people?

And Cordelia, she'd not said a word to him since she'd told him that morning when he woke up that he was wrecking everything and taking everyone down to with him. He wasn't the one to be hurt by words as he's had told deal with such all the years at Manterror's. Yet, her words had struck him like arrows dipped in scorpion poison. It was spreading all over his head and he couldn't stop thinking about the sadness that had creased her brows as she spoke.

What had he done that was so wrong? He had been concerned about Dathan, about him dying because of what Harris had done. At least someone should understand. Even if no one did, Cordelia, whom he'd spent the better part of a year should know he wasn't selfish. He had always wanted, desired what was best for everyone.

Selfish?

He had never heard anyone used that word. No, not since Alexius left. That even had been lies. Lies Alexius told to get at his skin. He'd never agree that he was selfish. Or was he?

The last few days, all he'd been thinking was getting fine with the ear so he could get to lead a normal life. The war was the password to getting the elixir. The elixirs with whichever he'd save his people. Maybe he had been selfish after all. Damn! It felt like his happiness had been plunged even deeper into the ocean that was his saddened heart.

He sank to the floor, not careful to avoid the shards of glasses that was everywhere, a reminder of his unguarded state. An attempt to push the food Mrs. Ivy had brought in that morning had resulted in the glass of water breaking, spilling water and glass everywhere. Yet, he hadn't moved to clear the mess. He hated that he might see someone and would have fresh pangs of guilt at seeing them not talking to him.

As he sat down, his felt a sharp prick on his right index finger. A shard of glass had gone in and it was deep inside. He tried removing it but the more he tried, the deeper he looked felt it go.

He pointed his left palm towards it, the last option being magic.

"Excavio!"

Nothing worked. He didn't even feel the usual rush of power that jostled him a little when casting a spell. Alas, his magic was gone!

Another update is ready. Just give me few minutes.


In approximately 6-8 updates, this book will be done and dusted

# operationFinishMyBook
#MadeOfMore!

I must finish this book this month oo...

When George got back to the clearing, he found Harris on the floor, clutching his ears and not moving.

"Harris!" George called but Harris gave no response. He moved close to him and bent down to touch him, just then, Harris latched out at him and made to grab him, George, out of shear instincts dodged and Harris staggered forward.

He saw Harris' back and decided that something was wrong. The boy's leg now looked sturdy and his eyes had flashed a brilliant black. George wondered what he could do.

Harris turned around again and faced George. His visage was like one who'd been dipped in hot oil. His eyes were black, his pupils greatly reduced. His mouth creased at an unbelievable angle and saliva dropped from them like he was an slowpoke.

Those fingers

They looked like tendrils and had an unmistaken look like those of birds. George wished this was all a dream. Harris approached him, a vengeful smile plastered on his dripping lips.

"Harris, please I don't want to hurt you. Stay back!"

If this was Harris, he clearly didn't know his name any longer as he kept coming. George prepared himself. As Harris neared, George sensed movement around him. Someone was watching. This wasn't good. *Why would the person not come to his aid?* Maybe he was waiting to make sure that he was clearly in trouble before coming so he would have all the bragging rights.

George would show him he needed no help. If Harris was weak before, he would deal with him no matter what what had possessed him.

"Sustania!" George aimed the choking spell at Harris. He stopped coming forward, looking like he'd been affected by the spell. He however straightened up in few second much to George's amazement. He was getting scared. He threw another spell, this time a curse that stopped the flow of blood, but Harris, like it was a pinch of his arm only bent for a moment. He was very close now. George backed away and wanted to scream for help. He found his voice was gone and could only produce a croak.

"Help!' Please help!!!"

He backtracked and made to turn and run away when he his back hit a tree and found he couldn't break free. Small tendrils, similar to those now on Harris hand bind him to the tree awaiting Harris' attack. George felt husband heartbeat tripled its beat and silently prayed this wouldn't be the end.

Bids of sweat soaked his back as Harris finally got to him and stopped. He opened his mouth and George perceived what smelled like ginger.

"Any last words? "

The voice was nothing like Harris. His had been babyish, a child-like pitch. This however, was harsh and deep, like someone who had swallowed a block of ice.

George contemplated begging him to but knew that would amount to nothing. He instead decided to play for time, giving him space to think of a solution.

"But, what have I done?"

The reply came from an inexpensive source. It came from behind him. "Your kind is the reason why there's been commotion around the tree population, you come in to take what's ours and never stop to consider the consequences. Today, you pay for the wrongs of your fathers."

With that, Harris touched George’s forehead and he began to twitch, his brain immediate exploded as he began to see the scenes from other kings minds that had passed before him. Then, as quickly as it had began, it stopped. It was a voice he hadn't expected but was glad to hear nonetheless. Mrs. Ivy rushed on to carry him away as Cordelia chanter on with her father.

The walk to the library was a long and quiet one. No one talked and George couldn’t stop himself from imagining what Harris’ father would feel when they met him. For all he thought, Harris could have reported everything already, his own version by the way. He just hoped their only chance at retrieving the staff was not already squandered.

The door to the library was open when they got there. It was unusual for it to be left ajar so late into the evening. They knocked on the door lightly. There was no answer, nor any sign that someone was indoors.

Mr. Logan gave George a look that said 'be ready for anything'. They tiptoed inside, their eyes trying to adjust to the darkness. George tried hard to remember the position of the reading tables and the rows of shelves. He was beginning to feel that this had been a bad idea, especially as they couldn’t turn on the lights.

George couldn’t remember exactly where but he knew that one of the tables had been dragged close to a shelf the last time he came here by a nerdy guy who thought his table was too far away from the shelves as he needed to be retrieving books every now and then. He just wished that the boy, or the librarian, had been kind enough as to have taken it back to the right place. It didn’t take long to find out as Mr. Logan who was ahead of him kicked something and nearly falls.

“Be careful around there sir,” he called hurrying up to catch him. George wondered if he should just use a light-evoking spell. The place was as dark as midnight and no one knew what to expect. They got to the back of the library, to the door that led to the interior where the librarian and his boy, Harris lived.

They met the old man on his bedside clutching his stomach, clearly in pains. They rushed to his side immediately and helped him sit on the bed.
“What’s the matter with you,” Mr. Logan asked. It was strange seeing the man this way. His hair was unkempt and he looked like he hadn’t eaten anything in days.

“I’m being tormented, Mr. Logan. They won’t let me do anything.” Mr. Logan was clearly as confused as George was. Who was tormenting someone as peaceful as this elf-man who everyone in the realm had great respect for?

“Who’s tormenting you?” George questioned even as he noticed the man’s labored breathing.
“It’s the souls of the branchlings. They have the staff and are coming for me.” Everything still sounded strange still. What were the branchlings? And what did they want from him?

“You won’t understand even if I explained. My ancestors made the staff and it’s from the sachards they were crafted. I don’t know how but they have gotten hold of the staff and now, I am in trouble and even my son.

Mr. Logan and George exchanged a knowing look, terror clearly visible on George’s beaming eyes.

“Harris!” they both screamed. George didn’t wait for Mr. Logan to say another word as he tore out of the library immediately into the waiting darkness that lurked outside.

Cc: Ayodipths, devilmaycry1 and all who care.

Good morning guys. I've edited the last update. The errors will be minimal now. Enjoy your day.



#made of more!

Ayodipths:
Good Job, Happy Independent Day o, Nigeria Plus 1 today, am followin you o @pabon, more ink sir.

Thanks a lot for your followership

Chapter 20


His temper was flaring as he and Harris combed the area for any sight of the staff but it was no where to be found. The day was now getting dark and George feared that the staff could be all but lost already. He was finding it hard to be hopeful.


"I'm sorry George. I didn't mean for this to happen." George gave him a stern look which lasted for few seconds. "I'll punch you if you don't stopped talking. I promise I will."


Harris tore his eyes from George's immediately and bent down to continue the search. The air was gradually becoming chilly and Harris kept sobbing like he was going to cry. George knew he shouldn't be so hard on Harris but he just couldn't help it. The boy had never done anything right all his life and should never have taken the staff in the first place especially as he knew the power that the staff welded. What would have happened if he had gotten hurt?

There were just four days left till the Solstice occurred and this was hardly the time for things to get worse.

George took leave of searching and sat down on a patch of grass where he stayed folding his legs to his chest and cursing at his luck. Harris made to sit close to him but George didn't let that happen. He got up as quick as he could and trudged towards the house, not minding how Harris would take it.

When George got to the house, he met Cordelia and Nora having a heated argument. They stopped when they saw him arrive.

"Where have you been?" Cordelia questioned. George didn't answer her and headed inside the house. Nora called after him but he declined answering as he stormed into his room and bolted the door behind him.

He kept pacing the floor, his legs making contact with the clothes that were strewn all over the place. The only thing he'd could think of now was getting the staff back. The problem was how he was going to do it when he couldn't even locate it. He recalled once reading that the staff could conceal itself from danger. He wondered if that was the case here. Sometimes, magic was a problem. He wondered if a time would come when he wouldn't have to worry about anything but himself.

All his life had been filled with taking care of others, making sure everyone around was doing alright. Yet, he was human and had a life to live himself.

An idea suddenly struck him and he zipped to the table and finding his book of Counted spells, he brushed aside the others, not bathing his eyes even as they collapsed to the floor. He skimmed through the table of content until he found the chapter on location spells. There were several ones described there but none pointed to locating anything of magic origin.

"No!" he screamed, as he threw the book towards the wall where it gave a thud and several pages came undone.

He sank to his chair again and bent his head to the desk, wanting to forget everything. It was all he could to stop himself from crying.

A knock on the door was left unanswered. Two more aroused him and he shouted, "Leave me alone, I don't want to see anyone!"

"That's not wise, George." It was Mr Logan's voice and George trudged to the door and unbolted it, making room for the one man he respected to come in. He lingered around the door, turning around just to watch Mr Logan sit on his bed.

"Come here, have a seat!" he beckoned on George who reluctantly complied.

Mr. Logan looked at George as he hid his face between his hands.

"Sometimes, it's better not to conceal your fears, your worries. It's not really about what you want to do but what you have to."

He reached out and placed his hand on George's back and George twitched slightly. "A problem shared doesn't necessarily bring the solution but it lightens the burden."

George sat up straight to look up at Mr Logan. "It's gotten bad Mr. Logan. It's really bad!"

"Tell me about it," he requested.

George narrated everything that had occurred from the vision he had in the Thorank state till the event of Harris misplacing the staff and his failure at finding a solution. Mr. Logan kept his features schooled throughout the duration of George’s narrative and drank in everything like it was his favorite brand of wine.

He allowed some few seconds before speaking. George looked at Mr. Logan, difficult to decipher what the man was thinking. True to the fact, he felt lighter having spoken about it but there still was the puzzle of the staff to be solved.

"Harris acted unwisely in taking the staff, that cannot be brushed away but you didn't act better either by making him feel worse. That boy has gone through a lot in recent times and what's to say you would have acted differently?"

"These are tough times George but if there's anyone who can overcome, it's you. It's why you were brought here. You are destiny's child!"

George hit his leg on the floor violently, wanting to vent his frustration. He was tired already, tired of having to be looked upon as a savior of some kind, he was human too and had his own issues."

"Calm down son. I think the right thing to do now is to pay a visit to Harris' father. That's if he's not already pissed with your handling of his son." He stood up suddenly and tapped George on his shoulders. "Grab your coat, let's pay the librarian a visit."

Edited for better reading experience

The car jerked into life and I pulled out of the park. The only thing I could hear was my heart beating fast with the unmistakable feeling that I was being watched.

I wheeled into Trentford Lane where the traffic was less. If I wanted to lose whoever was tailing me, I had to have enough room on the road for myself. There was no way I was going to let anyone follow me home. I pressed hard on the gas and fired down.

I glanced into my rear mirror and saw it for the first time. It was an SUV. This person ought to be an amateur. Who ever went into this business and forgets to conceal himself? An SUV doesn't do for a spy

I was so going to have a nice time playing with this one. I took a turn around Green Lodge Street and took a swift turn into Macaulay Avenue. This was surely going to confuse whoever it was. I watched as the speedometer ran up till I confirmed I was going 100mph. There was a reason why I was referred to as 'Road rabbi' back in the days.


When I was sure I had lost whoever it was, I turned into Maverick road. The air had turned chilly as the breeze from the river was moving into land. I watched the houses pass with reckless abandon. I used to enjoy the view the first time I moved here. It was nothing like the other places I've spent my life. It's not like I had ever had time for sceneries as my job had required me to move very quickly. Come into town, get a hotel and put tracers on the bastard who got unfortunate enough to have angered my boss. Immediately he was dropped, I packed my stuff and exited the town, endeavoring to wipe away any trace that I ever set foot there.

I've seen the worse of cases, killed people from every walk of life. Only one hurts me. I see him everyday in my dreams. His face keeps coming back no matter how hard I tried to erase the memory. I remembered the look on his face before I took the shot. One bullet had done the job. I still have that bullet. It's my reminder that I was once a bloody assassin. No, I wasn't a bloody assassin. I was the bloody assassin. Which other assassin could kill a four-year old and still breathe oxygen like it was normal?

Well, that's what everyone thought. It's what I wanted them to think. That was why I even accepted another job right away and executed with my usual perfection. However, I was done after that. Never again to hold a riffle.

I drove into my compound at last towards the garage. I pushed a button from my car and the garage door slid up slowly. I drove in, the darkness hardly causing me any worries. This was home after all.

Careful to ensure the door was locked, I moved away from my car and towards the back of the garage and pressed the button. A lift takes me upstairs. A stench caught my nostrils, a reminder of the bag of decaying sandwiches I had bought three days back. I make up my mind to dispose of it when I was well rested and refreshed.

The ride up the elevator was fast and in no time, I was in my living room. I sat on my favorite sofa and carefully pulled the shoes from off my feet. I have stinking feet and so wriggled my nose immediately anticipating the smell and it never failed to disappoint.

Just then, I felt something cold on the back of my head.

"It ends today Nathan."

It was the only other voice I loathed, the only other that commanded fear like mine. It was Naomi, my ex-girlfriend and the most wanted assassin in all of Darkaf. She had promised to kill me when she met me again. I guess this is was it then.

***********


This was a writing prompt from the words 'sandwiches' , 'elevator', and 'door'. I hope it was a good one.

When George disentangled himself from the Thorank state, he felt his body was shakiness visibly. The shock of knowing that Dathan could be dead any moment if he lingered was as destabilising as can be.

He cursed under his breath as he jogged towards the woods where he'd seen Harris in the vision. He blames himself for not faulting his dreams where he had seen Harris use the Staff as a walking aid.

How could he have allowed the fact that Cordelia had been gone to overshadow the care for the sword?

The breeze had just stated blowing and as he tore through clusters of grasses, he could feel the cold lounging, waiting till he stopped to begin to take its toll. George though had no thought to stop. Only ones thing mattered now; get to Harris and get the staff from him.

Soon enough, he began to hear Harris roar as he practiced his moves. George wondered the demons that could be controlling Harris. Was this part of the invasion? would they turn one of his against him?

As he neared the clearing in the woods and caught sight of a heavily soaked Harris, he tripped and gave out a shriek as he fell. Harris was by his side in no time, helping him to his feet. He felt a deep seething pain shoot through his ankle all the way to his knees. He had to push Harris away so he could sit down.

Harris too got a seat on the trunk of a fallen tree. George gave Harris a questioning look. If looks could kill, Harris would definitely have lost breath already. Such was the anger in George's eyes.

"What the heck do you think you are doing, Harris?"

When Harris spoke, he stuttered, visibly shocked. "I was practising with the staff, I thought you saw that?"

"Oh yes I saw that, but why would you use the staff? Have you grown nuts? Is the staff a play thing to be used by just anyone and that roughly?

" I didn't mean to cause problems. I wanted to... "

" If only you know the magnitude of your actions, Dathan is almost gone because of your stu..."

At this moment, Harris jumped up, losing his usually calm demeanor. "Everyone thinks I'm invalid, that I'm of no use, but this is my realm too, my place and I must take part in its defence."

George felt his adrenaline shoot up immensely and he took Harris by the collar, almost choking him.

"Are you so foolish. If you wanted to so defend your people, why not pick something else, why the staff?" George saw the fear in hiss eyes and immediately decided it was no use harming him, he threw him to the ground and looked around.

"Where's the staff? hand it over immediately."

Harris, standing up gently, wiping the dirt from his clothes, hurried back to where he'd been training, where he'd left the staff when he heard George's voice. He looked at the place where he thought the staff should lay and it wasn't there.

AOB: Happy Independence day! Your month is made of more!

Cc ayodipths, devilmaycry1, and all who care.

I slept off. Woke up like thirty minutes ago

I'll try to update this night. I've found a new motivation factor

George struck the rock with a splitting spell. The shell force alone drove the piece to the far end of the field, hitting the wall with a bang.
He was training as hard as he could. A lot of time had passed, and he still felt unprepared. Cordelia had been practicing with him but had left some minutes ago to catch some rest. However, George wanted more.

He needed to practice more in the Thorank state. From his studies, he could tell that practicing close to the house wasn’t advisable. Just a little blast of power uncontrolled could spell the damnation of people up to a mile away. After all, he was the Thorank King.

George got into the house to get a mat as he wanted to go towards the river where he’d be alone, and the effect of the Thorank power won’t be able to cause any problems.

It took a few minutes to get to the riverside. The wind was blowing softly making his head cool down. It had been threatening to ache again. All of this was causing mental exertion, but he couldn’t stop. Not now.

He spread the mat down close to the riverbed and sat, his limbs folded under him like one practicing meditation.
It took just a few seconds before he was soaked in. He had mastered getting into the state when he liked, and now, he tried working on his concentration. He began to weave the water from the river, trying to make a wall of it. The water did rise, but it wouldn’t form compaction. He’d tried making icy darts from water in the past, and that had worked, but this was proving very difficult. His concentration level had not improved even though he had been at this for two days now, from midday till sundown. He exited the state, disappointed at failing again. Maybe he’d have to try something else. There was nowhere it had been stated that these creatures could be attacked or killed by water. He had just imagined it would work. Call it desperation or not, he needed every help he could get.

He made up his mind he was going to try something else. He had read from the book on Bonding Thoranks that a link could be established between the minds of Thorank people, a passage for information unable to be detected by ordinary folks. He tried establishing contact with Dathan’s mind. If he could just connect with him, there was the possibility he could be brought back. He had a piece of his hair in a bottle containing his blood. George uncapped the bottle and dipped his hand into it.

The moment his hand got into the bottle, he felt his body jerk and his eyes whiten. A single strand of impulse had shot through his frame and had stopped at his head.

He could see Dathan’s weakened form. His body laid lifeless in a darkness no light could reach. He was on a platform of some transparent material, the chaol. George had read about the bricks that encased the heart of his kind. Dathan’s had formed a bed for him. He could hear the noise of water dripping, slowly. A mist was arising from the side of the pavement where his body laid. George approached him. He was cautious though as he didn’t know what to expect. His heart skipped beats as he got to the place where he laid. There were whitish marks, like veins visible from his head down. George looked down at the floor where a pool was forming. It was his essence. It was draining away.
Panic struck him, and he felt his body jerk. So much had been lost already. He wondered if he could do anything to help him.
Dathan! Dathan can you hear me?

He tried touching him, but his hand just passed like he had no form. He was there. George knew that without a doubt. He wished he knew what to do to help Dathan. Any moment and he’d have lost everything. He noticed that he was twitching slightly. Every few seconds, he would have what looked like seizures. George felt his eyes go watery. It wasn’t lovely the least bit not to be able to do anything. George sat down beside the chaol. He was lost for words, not that he could speak them here anyways but George wished he could express his frustration. He shifted, allowing his leg to flail. His leg made contact with Dathan’s essence, and he got struck by a bolt of power. A scene began playing before him where he saw Harris swinging the staff like he was performing a circus show. He looked like an amateur and kept hitting the staff on the floor. Every moment the staff made contact with the floor, George and Dathan felt an uncontrollable seizure, and George felt even his essence bleed.

Damn! It was Harris all this time! He had the staff and was killing Dathan!

Lol.
@ayodipths

I will continue, surely.

Ayodipths:
ah ah Mr Pabon, i don't like this one you keepin us wait o, sey u dn't knw tha e don reach six (6) years, am gettin tired o.

I didn't even know I had a follower in you @ayodipths

I sometimes get frustrated with those book. I gave my last update to a professional writer and he made me see it still have a lot to improve on. The thing weak me abeg!


I'm not just writing for fun. I want to become an established author. So, pardon me. I'm working on improving.

Waking up to the sound of rain, George sat up. His fingers were numb and scarcely could move. The smell of smoke filled hiss nostrils. He was forced to cough as he was almost choking. The action alone caused great pain as he felt his throat constrict.

There was debris on the floor, scattered around the house with the roof still pouring down some portions of concrete.

What could have happened here?

George found his slippers under a large piece of stone. He bent to pick it up and saw from underneath the bed the gory remains of a man's face. It was already decaying. He covered his nose and tried weaving his way out of the house.

There was so much destruction, he couldn't tell what had happened and why he'd been left on the bed. He was sporting any injuries or illness apart from the headache that was throbbing softly behind his forehead.

Outside, his eyes found it difficult to adjust to the rays of the sun that was illuminating dead and decaying corpses. The colors were distorted and disturbing. Yellow mixed with red and green had the color of the earth in distasteful patterns.

The sons had fallen. Not one, not two but all.

Had the battle been lost? But the sons were still training the last time I checked?

He moved around, trying to look for any evidence of life. There was hardly any. The stench was was beginning to get athim. Still, he rummaged on. He needed answers, answers that could only be zone from one that had witnessed it.

At last, he saw Harris in the distance. He was barely able to move. He was using the staff as a walking aid. This wasn't supposed to be. He ran all the way to meet him. He arrived just in time to catch him from falling.

"Harris! What's the problem? What happened?"

He looked into Harris' eyes as though the answers were there. Harris was visibly pained and took his time before answering. When he opened his mouth, the bitterness was clearly etched in his brows.

"We lost George. We lost!" He began sobbing and George withdrew his hands from him. He allowed Harris slide to the floor and he was forced to join him there.

"Why wasn't I there? What happened to me?"

Harris remained silent for a while, his eyes closed as a though trying to shut off something. A thought perhaps, anger, feeling of disappointment, maybe.

"George, you were losing your mind. You remained in the Thorank state and nothing we tried worked to get you to help."

George's eyebrows were creased in astonishment. How could thud have happened? For a battle he'd been preparing towards for so long long?

He couldn't believe it." Where's Cordelia?"

At the mention of her name, Harris began moaning. He tried to speak but tears streamed down husband eyes. He could only point towards a direction and George felt husband legs shaking as he stood. He ran towards the direction. The heap on the floor said more than words could. She was gone!

He fell to his knees and began pounding the ground.

"No, it can't end this way! No, Cordelia, come back!"

He began scratching at the heap. He was going to unearth her and bring he back to life. He'd look for a way, comb the earth till he found a solution.

He felt a feeble hand grab his shoulder, the hand kept pulling at him but he wouldn't bulge. He had to see Cordelia's face again, if only


"Get up George!"

He was slapped hard on the back and jerked up side suddenly. It was Mr Logan.

"Bloody hell! You're running some serious temperature."

George sat up even as he watch Cordelia come into the room. She carried a tray holding a jug that was emitting some steam. She dropped it on a side table. She came close to her dad and she looked down on him, the sadness clearly manifest on her face.

George held her hand as she came to sit by his side. This was enough evidence. It had been a dream.

olumoyebo179:
done sir...
The story has derailed to much nah...come update abeg[color=#F8F8F8].[/color]

What's the attachment for?

tunjilomo:
The episode is good, there are some little mistakes, but overall it is good.

You can do well to show the mistakes

Run away, abi?

Anyways, I will try to update today.

#Made of more!

I've edited the last update. I think the reading experience will be better now

George mopped her head with the warm rag he had just soaked in the bucket of hot herbs Mr. Logan had prepared. Her fever didn't seem like it was going to heal. He wondered why it was this way and why they had targeted her. This was certainly not normal. What was normal about someone having a dream and waking up to be affected?

As he glanced at her, her forehead now looking brighter than the remainder of her face, he remembered what she said had happened.

Cordelia had screamed from a dream she had. She had narrated about her invitation to the fortress where the damsels of the realm met to bond. She'd been a member of the ma'im as they were called until she left the realm some years ago. They had wanted to try and discuss ways for her to come back. Cordelia had revealed that she had not exactly liked the ideas but wanted to go anyways so she could explain why she'd left in the first place.

There had been a dance of steep steppers, a game she had been very good in. It was a game that required one to dance across a narrow bridge, not once looking downwards and not spilling the pot water balanced on the head. During her absence, Hydrein had become the champion but she had immediately outperformed her in the dream.

They had also tried eyes on fire, a game where they had to shoot fires towards a target, an eye which was situated far from where they had stood. She had again outperformed everyone. This obviously hadn't gone well with some or one of them. She couldn't tell. She just noticed the frown Hydrien had been sporting.

They had a then sat down to meal. It had been an overstocked barbecue. Every meat she'd longed for and missed had been there. Everyone had been told to serve themselves. This was why she could give no rational explanation how she got poisoned.

She had, after having her portion of baked lamb, started feeling the pains from her inside. She had thought it was just the reactions from having not had that kind of meal in a while. However, the pain lingered and she's had to be rushed to Lady Dinah's care centre where'd seen visions of her entrails rottening at a fast rate. She'd woken up from the dream in pains and had immediately developed a fever.

Though she was hardly conscious, she kept wincing in pains and could hardly stay put. George felt his heart melt. He never wanted to see Cordelia this way. He'd gotten used to the image of a fearless heiress and didn't like this one.

He wished he could could do something. He'd tried already. All the spells he'd learnt in the past didn't worked on her. It wasn't that they weren't potent but that they had been prepared to work on physical issues, one that had the consciousness of the patient involved. This wasn't liked that. Someone had gone great length to impose a dream on her and worked the poison into her sub-onscious. and now she was getting worse with each passing hour.

*In the moment of great grief, you'll find your strength. Your emotions are your strongest weapon*

It had flashed before his eyes, those words. He tried putting the pieces together but the picture wouldn't come. He knew though the answer was there, in those words.

What does it mean for his emotions to be his strongest weapon?

What emotion? He was only sad. Yes, he was vexed also. He was sad that Cordelia was suffering so much. The anger was for those who had done this to her. He wished they were here too taste of his wrath. He would make them pay, the hell he would.

If there was one thing that George notice had changed about him, it was his emotions. They kept flaring. It had never been this way. He'd been more rational. Now, all he thought about was death, evil. Was this the package that was came with young adults? He preferred his former version. Yes, he had been small and of childish mind but then, he wasn't powered by evil thoughts. He had believed that his empathy was what distinguished him from others. He had the ability to love without faults.

Yes, he did get angry at times. Yet, it had never solicited thought of evil, the magnitude of death, against an offender. He needed to get back himself.

Cordelia coughing got him back to the present. He dashed towards the kitchen and returned briskly with a cup of water. He helped her hold the cup as she slowly drained its content. He then helped her lay back down before proceeding to return the cup to the kitchen.

[I] Damn! She was losing so much weight already.[/i]

He began sobbing when was in the kitchen, the door locked and satisfied there was no chance she could hear him. He couldn't afford to see her dead. He had to do something. This was what pained himself the most.


At other times, the solutions had presented themselves to him. He'd known what to do or somehow triggered the solution. Now, when he needed to act the most, he just couldn't do anything. He was helpless. And afraid. Cordelia was going to die. That was the sad reality.

Mr. Logan had barely talked all day, or even eaten. He'd been at the library going through books. George felt for him. He would be doing the exact same thing if he didn't need to be here with Cordelia. Nora would have been the next best alternative but she was attending to an errand for Harris' father. She had been of great use, helping to clean Cordelia up and assist with all the girlish things.

George went outside when he noticed that Cordelia was finally sleeping. The place was quiet. Only the noise of birds chirping through theirs day could be heard and that of leaves rustling in the yard that was now littered from abandon. Just two days. Two days and everything had gotten worse.

Why is the light being sucked from my life? Why won't they allow me just few precious moments of happiness? George couldn't help asking himself. He burst into tears, his emotions no longer able to remain bottled.

He didn't know when he entered the Thorank state. His tears had formed a path for blood to ooze from his eyes, which by the way were shining and ghostly white. He felt himself being dragged to where Cordelia laid. He stooped over her, the index finger of both his hands found her temples and stayed there.

As soon as the dripping blood from his eyes fell on her face, her eyes opened too only they were as white as his too. George felt a surge of current sipping through the connection that had formed between their bodies. It felt like he was drawing away the pains from her and storing them in his body. This took some minutes before it stopped and George fell to the floor.


PS: This is an unedited piece. I'll come back to do some editing

Cc:
Rockhillz
Dranoid
devilmaycry1
spritmask
favyo
Ojusco
Joviegghead
tunjilomo
Teehsticckz

I've edited the last update. You guys can help me out by pointing little errors when you see them. Let's do this'll together.