(BOOK 1 in the Ermand Chisel series)
Since the time he had remembered, Ermand had to frequently encounter a series of sinister and blood-curdling dreams, and they weren't merely nightmares. When he receives an invitation to join Agledon Magic Univer...
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Ermand gasped as the torment not only enfeebled his body but also his hopes. The intolerable soreness has brought him lying on the floor as he could not move an inch. His body has lost its power to make movements.
He couldn't see the colours, everything went black.
Am I blind?
Even if he tried crying out for help, no one would come for help, everybody must be on their way back home. The college authorities are assembled in some other hall, four or five floors above him. Hope was at it's nether end.
When Ermand almost thought it must be slowly killing him and closed his eyes, a voice echoed into his ears.
Ermand, get up.
The voice was unrecognizable, whether it belonged to a man or a woman, but it was robust.
"No…," he quavered. "I-I'm d-dying…"
Ermand, rise up. The voice seemed to be commanding.
"I-I… can't," he tried replying. "I… I'm not-t g-going… to… make--" Ermand felt dizzy as he felt the ghastly feeling taking control of his brain.
You will not die! Get up!
Ermand shot up immediately, gasping. He didn't know where all the energy came from. The pain had gone. He turned around him in search of the voice. There was no one in the hall.
He stared at his palms, they were red like cherry. His legs couldn't move. Nevertheless, he pulled himself up by reaching his hands on one of the pillars near to him and staggered out of the hall.
Tawarn is under destruction. My family.
He darted outside the college boundaries and in the direction of a large white circular raised platform. A man in a gray uniform sat in the middle of the platform with his hands on the steering that was affixed to the platform. Several people were rushing into the metal platform after buying their tickets. The vehicle is called a Locoshifter.
Ermand lurched toward the Locoshifter.
"Where?" The ticket collector asked.
"Fingercut street."
"Seven Erats," the gray capped ticket collector said, tearing a blue ticket from the board of different reels of coloured tickets in his hand.
Ermand dug in his pockets to get seven tiny bronze coloured metal coins. He realized he only had three Erats and a larger coin - one Pecun.
"Sorry, I only have one Pecun."
"Alright, give it," the man returned Ermand the blue ticket and three Erats after dropping the Pecum into his tin. The tin might seem extremely compact to carry all the money but it was grandly spacious inside.
