Ch. 03- They Don't Understand

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Not a single one of them believes me. I realized with a frown.

I was currently sitting in a jail cell, run down and broken by time but impenetrable because of barrier magic binding the stones and surrounding air to the space it already occupied. No one gets out, and no one gets in without permission from the caster of the spell.

They learned from last time and were having their conversation just outside the barrier, in front of the jail. I could catch the sound of voices but couldn't make out what they were saying at all. It was just faint murmurs.

I run my hand along the back wall. It's smooth; the stones have few impurities. There was no expense left unpaid when going into this project. I'm sure it looked lovely when it wasn't crumbling and half-torn down.

My sword was sitting on a table beyond a half wall, glittering with the sunlight that hit the blade from the space previously occupied by a stone. If Morgana was here, we'd have my sword and be out by now.

Moon above, I miss her.

I miss everyone.

Unfortunately, I am ripped from my memories as the group enters the small stone structure. I realize why they have a half wall there as some of them stay behind the barrier. Dante is gone from the group now, but masked man, Irene, Garroth, Katelyn, and Laurence remain. Irene, Garroth, and Laurence are the only ones to step closer.

The trio was cautious in their approach like they were approaching a frightened stray cat. Irene was the only one to come directly up to the bars. "Answers. We want answers and real ones, not the ones you gave us at the gate."

"My words at the gate were more true than anything else in the universe that I could give you," I spat. Taking a breath to calm down, I continued. "I have proof." I raised my hands, showing them the empty palms. "Proof of my claims. But I need to grab it from my cloak."

Garroth glanced at the cloth in question, still clipped around my neck. I'm honestly surprised they let me keep it on, not a good strategy for a village keeping a criminal at bay. He nodded minutely and I reached one palm into my cloak, bringing out the glittering blue and white book from within.

Their eyes register the journal with recognition. A well-known book I stole from the High Priest.

"How did you get your hands on that?" Garroth asks with a puzzled look on his face.

"Isn't that her journal?" Irene asks in a whisper, more to herself than anyone else.

Her head guard answers her anyway. "Yes. It's supposed to be under lock and key and guarded at all times."

"Guarded by appointed individuals, right?" Laurence chimes in.

"Yes," I agree. "However, the High Priest isn't that observant when it comes to the book. No one noticed a replica in its place." Garroth looks like he wants to be angry with me, but he's not. Laurence and Irene look shocked and concerned.

There's a pause as they debate the weight of what this means.

I open the book as they watch. The pages glitter with hidden magic, ensuring that those who were not originally permitted couldn't read the true and full contents of the book. High Priests of centuries past claimed the blank pages were those with words so holy, it wasn't meant to be read by humans. They were right in a sense, but Irene just wanted something private for herself.

The passage about me was one of the pages that remained blank for millennia. When I flip to that passage, Laurence and Garroth scrutinize it for any tricks. Irene gazes at the pages with familiarity. "That's my handwriting." Her words were no more than a rasp, quiet and only able to be heard because of the silence already gripping these walls.

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