And so starts Post-A-Day! After you read, I hope you will take time to check out four other amazing blogs by my incredible friends who have decided to participate in Post-A-Day: gandalftheteller, pandawarrior, DragonDramaticx, and The Rivendell Musician. I’m sure you’ll enjoy every one of their posts – they are awesome.
For now, enjoy this new (and crazily complicated) story I’ve generated (from the recesses of my mind that currently has writer’s block) just for you, my Post-A-Day readers.
She tucked the white towel over the top of the laundry basket, hiding the contents from view. “That should be sufficient,” she said without turning.
“The Master will be pleased when we come to him with this gift,” replied a deep voice from behind the girl. “He will reward us both.”
“I do hope he’ll give me my lanlacce back,” the girl sighed, feeling the top of the towel to make sure it did not feel like sixty-two diamond prisms and more like sixty-two dirty shirts, pants, and socks.
The man behind her gave her a smack on the head, and she winced. “Ow!”
“Your silly remembrance chain is not one The Master will want you to have,” he told her coldly. “Why do you think he took it in the first place? It would be foolish of you to ask.”
The girl sighed again. “Are you sure, Roran? What reason could he possibly have for banning lanlacce?”
Roran made a sound like a tiger’s growl. “That is none of your business. The Master has his own reasons. You need to stop asking such silly questions, Annika.”
Annika rolled her eyes. “I bet you just don’t know why.”
“Of course I do, but I can’t tell you,” Roran pointed out stiffly. “So give it up. Who are you even trying to honor, anyway?”
Annika’s temper flared up, but she didn’t turn around to face Roran. “My older brother. And my younger sister.”
“Can one chain hold two people?” Roran mused. “Rethwood, of course, was a good friend of Nara, the Void Child, but Remy, although so young – 6 or 7 years old – was a lot closer to the Sun Child, Tessa. Needless to say she’d also maintained a good relationship with that upstart mortal Jason and his friends Dierdras and Amarantha, who, no doubt, are still running around looking for that runaway hybrid Nephthys at the bidding of Madelene and the rest of the Heavenly Council. How did you even get that to work?”(Note: the names Remy and Rethwood DID NOT come from the Instagram account @remy.rethwood. I saw these names while spectating a roleplay and decided they’d be good for some random story.)
“It took a lot of begging from a black-market dwarf,” Annika responded curtly.
Roran snorted. “Of course.”
Annika rolled her eyes again, but her retort was cut off by the sound of footsteps.
“Roran,” the older girl said breathlessly as she burst into the room. “The Master requires your presence right away.”
Roran turned, but Annika stayed crouching by the basket. “Why?” he asked sharply.
“It’s Jason,” the girl reported. “He’s found Nephthys.”
“Does Madelene know?”
“The head of the Heavenly Council?” The girl sounded confused. “No. We just got word from the lesser demon Lamia, the one stationed as a nurse in that school on Terraria. A student was hit in the head with a basketball, and when she woke up she was babbling about statues and a forest. Then Jason, Dierdras, and Amarantha showed up to take her away, and that kid she told about the statues.”
Roran took a step closer to the girl. “How many statues?” he demanded. “Was the forest dying? Who was the kid they took?”
The girl held up her hands and shrugged. “Hold up, man, I don’t know all the details. I think it was thirteen statues, the forest was dying, and the kid was some boy who is currently unidentified. The Master wants to discuss with – by which I take to mean yell at – you about it.”
“The unmortal,” Roran whispered with a touch of fear in his voice, then cursed under his breath. “Fantastic.”
“I thought that was a myth.” Annika spoke for the first time, and she could tell both had turned to look at her.
“Apparently not,” Roran said in disgust. “Nephthys was probably tracking him.”
“What’s the unmortal?” the messenger asked, puzzled.
“The unmortal is an old story that was once used to keep children from straying in the night,” Annika murmured. “There was once a child of both angel and demon descent, with access to an unlimited reserve of untapped power. This child, however, was raised in a mortal family, with mortal values, and believed himself to be a mortal.
“Now, as you know, magic use by magical beings is also affected by the environment they live in, so growing up in a world that scorns magic is detrimental to one’s magic nature and therefore will affect how this being reacts to a magic-use situation. It also gives this child a special privilege that even other angel-demon hybrids wouldn’t have.
“So this child grew up in a mortal world, during the Demonic Wars. When one of the battles descended upon his home, his first instinct was to run, like a mortal, and his second was to defend himself. He followed his second because his escape was blocked, and he performed an astounding feat of magic that ended the battle on both sides, pushing them apart. The effort severed his soul from his body and he was reported dead by the Terrarian government.
“They say that his spirit now roams the lands, traveling between his different homes: the Heavens, from which his mother came, the Hellish Realms, from which his father came, and the mortal world, where he grew up. He preys on those who do not do what they are told, and tries to prevent more like him.” Annika dipped her head as she ended her story.
“So what happens if he fails?” The messenger girl’s voice was small.
“He prepares for another war,” Annika replied grimly. “The last unmortal started the Mortal Uprising. Who knows what this one will do?”
“So you’re saying he must be eradicated before he can do any damage,” the girl said cautiously.
“Enough of this nonsense,” Roran interrupted roughly. “The Master and I will discuss this issue in our meeting.” He waved his hand at the messenger girl. “Begone.”
Annika stood up with the laundry basket. “I’ll bring this down to the Room of Silence. We can collect it tomorrow.”
Roran nodded. “Go ahead.” He then left the room.
Annika reached up and brushed her long, straight cinnamon hair out of her face, pinning it up with a black bobby pin. She straightened up, looking around to make sure she was alone, then pulled off the towel.
Beneath it was an array of dull, lackluster green stones. She pulled one out and tapped at it lightly. A small crack branched out from where her fingernail made contact with the shell.
She smiled. “Perfect.”
Placing it back in the basket and draping the towel back on top, she picked up the basket and proceeded down the stairs.