Chapter 22 - Painful Remembrance

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The two words struck me like a hammer in the chest—shadow frenzy.

"Zaxl, we have to help this man!" I pleaded.

"What will we benefit from it?" he callously asked.

"You shouldn't expect life to always reward your efforts. Our mother died from a shadow frenzy, and I can't bear to let it happen to his daughter."

"I will see what I can do..." he grumbled.

"Thank you so much!" her father

practically shouted with joy.

He led us toward his house and unlocked the door. We entered and were taken aback by how many books he had. He had books of all genres and some by authors I had never heard of. A select few of them had bizarre titles, such as How to Survive Arachnids of All Sizes and Shapes by Nikolo Fluir. My favorite title had to have been Help; Goblins Robbed Me of Everything! by Jacob Pliny VII.

"An avid reader, are we?" Zaxl asked with a haunting smile. He was wearing his cowl, and whenever he smiled, the only part of his face I could see was his razor-sharp teeth.

"Something like that," he replied with an embarrassed expression.

The man led us down a hallway into his daughter's room. I took one look at her and instantly knew that she was nearing death. My mother looked like that right before she passed.

"Daddy, who are these men?" his daughter asked hoarsely.

"Healers," he beamed.

"Why is that one wearing a cowl?" she asked with endearing curiosity.

"I'm sensitive to the sun," Zaxl lied.

"Oh... Can you make me a better, tall man?"

"I should be able to," Zaxl said gently, kneeling by her. He put his glove-covered hands on her forehead and chanted in a language I had never heard before. As he chanted, glowing red runes appeared on the walls. With each word, a new one was added. The walls were covered entirely in runes at the end of his chant. I'm not sure what they said, but I remember precisely what they looked like.

ᛗᚨᛁ ᚦᛁᛊ ᛊᛁᚲᚲᚾᛖᛊᛊ ᛚᛖᚨᚹᛖ ᛁᛟᚢᚱ ᛒᛟᛞᛁ. ᛁᛟᚢ ᛞᛟ ᚾᛟᛏ ᛒᛖᛚᛟᛜ ᚺᛖᚱᛖ. ᛚᛖᚨᚹᛖ ᛁᛟᚢᚱ ᚺᛟᛊᛏ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛚᛖᛏ ᚦᛖᛗ ᛚᛁᚹᛖ. ᚺᛖᚱ ᛚᛁᚠᛖ ᚺᚨᛊ ᛃᚢᛊᛏ ᛊᛏᚨᚱᛏᛖᛞ.

The runes faded from the walls, and I heard the girl let out a surprised gasp. She got out of bed excitedly and attempted to walk on her own. She walked to her father, who was crying from pure joy.

"What is your name?" I asked him.

"Archer Fenningthorn," he beamed.

"Could you get us something to drink, Archer?" Arthur asked with a grumbling stomach.

"Certainly. Who's up for some ale?" 

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