The Great War Prologue (7): Fantasy

Sometimes all we need is a good book

The salty ocean breeze sweeps over the port city of San Ovila, combating the heat of the midcycle. A colorful variety of beings mill about outside, shopping or talking or going about their jobs.

Isaac looks out his bedroom window that overlooks the little cluster of houses his family lives in. They’re all one to two floors, made out of rough beige brick with wooden doors and shutters.

The city itself is situated on the side of this massive hill, a slope that spans most of the island, which leads up to a large tree that blooms different colored flowers four times a year, its branches spanning the sky above the city and some of the San Ovila port. Right now its branches are full of small green leaves, which rain down in small clumps on occasion.

He stands from his desk and closes his shutters, shutting out the noise of the busy port. And the skylight as well, but he’s already got a candle burning on his desk for light. A small stack of books are piled up on the floor next to the desk, hidden in the back corner.

Isaac sits back down at his desk, where a single book lays open before him, waiting for his return.

Because he’s got no need to go outside this cycle, he threw on a simple yellow shirt and gold shorts. He’s not just wearing yellow because he and his family are Illusionists. It’s the law.

Isaac makes himself comfortable and turns the page of his book.

...looks frantically for her escape as the sound of heavy boots fill the hallway behind her and shouts ricochet up and down the small, endless space. With only torchlight to guide her, Erin summons what is left of her stamina to keep running.

Her ragged breathing fills her ears as her heart pounds and legs ache. The halls are just barely tall enough for her to stand straight in, and just wide enough for her to hold her torch out at her side to the point where she won't possibly burn herself. A stone maze she delves deeper and deeper into, becoming more lost as desperation grows.

Where are you? she can only wonder as she runs. Rain promised to meet her somewhere, but he's currently nowhere to be found. Did he just abandon her here, deep inside the Guardian's prison? She hopes not, but it's certainly starting to look that way.

Two presences tickle the back of Isaac’s mind, causing him to pause and stiffen in his seat. Beings are entering the house.

Thank the stars; this basket is heavy.

I wonder what Isaac did while we were away…?

The two voices are distinct - a man and a woman - speaking over each other without care. Isaac lets out a thankful sigh. It’s just his parents returning from the market.

On top of her panic is frustration. If she didn't have this enchanted bracelet stuck on her arm, she'd be able to use her magic to fight back. And Rain isn't around to help her in the slightest, that liar. Maybe she shouldn't have helped him after all.

She rounds a corner and...

“Isaac!” he hears his mother call. “Come help!”

“But I’m reading!” Isaac replies sharply.

“Just come.”

Isaac stands, his irritation immeasurable. He just wants to enjoy a good book, not do physical labor.

He steps out of his room and makes his way down the small hallway to the front of the house, walking into the small kitchen area that takes up a third of the main living room.

His mother is in a white-gold dress, taking out a variety of fruits and vegetables from a large woven basket. His father, also in a similar white-gold shirt and pants outfit, is resting in a chair in the living room, staring on.

“How was it out there?” Isaac asks as he promptly gets to work shuffling the food around.

“As busy as it always is,” his mother chuckles back. “You should join us sometime, Isaac.”

Isaac just shrugs. He rather just stay in and read. There’s nothing outside the four walls of his home that he’s interested in. Besides the library, of course, and even then he doesn’t like to spend much time there for long.

There are too many voices out there. Not just the ones from those chatting, but the internal ones as well. He doesn’t really understand what it is about him that allows him to hear these internal voices, but with a lack of control in a large crowd leads to nothing but disaster. Especially when Guardians are nearby.

He has no explanation for their thoughts. They’re chaotic and noisy, hundreds of voices trapped within one single being, constantly relaying information he knows he shouldn’t hear. Not that he can understand most of it, anyways, as it’s all just a bunch of noise to him.

That is why he doesn’t like going outside.

“I’m fine staying here,” Isaac eventually speaks.

“But you can’t stay inside forever,” his mother reminds him.

“I still step out on occasion,” Isaac tells her.

“You need to get yourself some friends,” his father laughs from his chair. “They’ll get you out and about!”

Isaac scowls. Having friends is a little difficult when you can hear every word they’re thinking. He doesn’t want to violate their privacy like that, not until he can get his special “talent” under control.

“I’m fine right now,” he lies. “I just want to get back to my book.”

He just wants to get away and absorb himself in a world that isn’t his own. It distracts him from the internal voices of others while also entertaining himself at the same time.

That’s all he needs. An escape.

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