Light streamed into the room through an unfortunately placed window. Mumbling complaints to the sun, a boy turned in his bed, burying his face in the pillows to gain a sense of the night that had just passed him by. Much too soon, however, a knock on the door echoed through his room.
“Guardian Esmun!” a voice beyond the door called. The boy groaned and covered his ears.
“Guardian Esmun, wake up!” the voice commanded as the door slowly swung open. An older man walked into the room, throwing open the windows and bathing the room in accursed sunlight.
“Go ‘way Cronulous,” Esmun muttered as he sat up, bleary blue eyes glancing around the room and blonde hair sticking out randomly from his head.
“A good morning to you as well, sir—and a happy ceremony,” Cronulous said, smiling. “Guardian Fremont has requested your presence in the dining hall.”
Esmun gave up on the idea of sleep and nodded slowly, defeated; the man stepped out of the room and shut the door. The boy stood and looked around his room. It was a large square area made of stone bricks, with a light blue carpet covering the floor, lit up by the sunlight streaming in from the window. On the wall across from the windows was a large wooden door next to an open wardrobe, its empty hooks calling out to the discarded robes on the floor, begging to be used. Esmun’s bed sat centered on one wall, with the door on its right and a large wooden desk on its left, with a small book and a closed bottle of ink on it, remnants from the boy’s late-night writing. Esmun gingerly touched the page. Discovering the ink was dry, he shut it and slipped it into a specially-made pocket he had haphazardly stitched into his under-robes. He then grabbed his robes from the middle of the floor where he had left them last night and pulled them on. Running his fingers through his hair, he glanced around his room. His eyes fell on The Sword. A black-handled, dark blue-bladed broadsword leaning up against his dresser. He grabbed it and strapped it to its side before he slipped out the door.
The hall had red carpeting and stone walls, with unlit torches every few feet. Four doors were positioned on each wall, with a letter painted elegantly. R, G, Y, B. Next to the doors stood the statues, men and women standing on pedestals, so realistic they looked like they could step off and greet the boy as he came out. They were all dressed in the same robes, the Royal Robes of the Creator, the ruler of Achana, the land behind the Great Barrier. Plaques on the pedestals named each statue. Cronulous was standing next to one of a shorter female Creator. The plaque at her feet tilted her as ‘Creator Tarina: Ruled 370-435’.
“Happy Ceremony, Cronulous,” Esmun said. The man smiled and gave a quaint bow.
“Up late with your work again?” He asked.
Esmun tapped the pocket where his book was stored. His potion book, where he kept any recipes he could get his hands on, and experimented with different ingredients and steps to make the elixirs stronger and better.
“Thought I had a lead on a Vanishr Elixir that also turns fabric invisible, no luck,” Esmun said as the two began to walk to the dining hall.
“You’ll get it, sir, I’m sure of it,” Cronulous said.
“Thank you, Cronulous,” Esmun responded with a smile. The two continued down the hall until they reached another door. Esmun smiled at Cronulous “thank you, you are dismissed.”
Cronulous nodded and walked off, leaving Esmun in front of the dining room.
“Good morning Esmun, happy Ceremony,” a boy said as Esmun walked in. The room was well lit by the windows on both sides, a low table sat in the middle of the floor with four cushions around it, three boys were sitting around the table, Bao, Warinot, and Fremont. The other Guardians. Esmun smiled; for nearly ten years now, the four boys had worked together as Achana’s most powerful warriors and The Creator’s right-hand men. Fremont sat facing the door that Esmun came in from, his green eyes smiling. Esmun could just see his red-bladed sword under the table beside him.
“Good morning Fremont, Happy ceremony all,” Esmun responded as he sat on the remaining cushion. On the table sat plates of fish, flatbread, and a bowl of dark red, pear-shaped fruit; Esmun gathered a few pieces of everything and poured a blue liquid into his cup.
“Are people here yet?” He asked. Warinot laughed.
“They were here at dawn. You know how important today is.”
Esmun nodded. Today was The Ceremony of the Shield, a holiday celebrating the anniversary of the First Creator taking the throne after the War of Magic. Only Today, Citizens of Achana are allowed into the outer court of the Creator’s home, The Temple of The Book, to celebrate peace and freedom. They usually set up a massive fair with games and booths to buy things.
It’s a tradition for the guardians to sneak out and enjoy the festivities.
“Are the potions ready?” Bao asked, his brown eyes shifting around the room as if he was scared someone was listening in.
“Almost, I left them on overnight, just a few more touches, and we’re good,” Esmun responded, eating hurriedly.
“You didn’t mess with them again, did you? The robes I wore last year still smell like sulfur from your ‘experiment,’” Fremont asked. Esmun shook his head.
“Followed the boring instructions and made a mediocre potion.” He said.
“Good, maybe it won’t explode,” Fremont responded. Esmun chuckled, remembering the disaster of last year’s attempt at a better potion. The boys finished eating, and Esmun led them away from the dining hall and down a set of stone stairs to the basement of the Temple. Opening an old wooden door, they enter a musty, darkened room. Esmun lit a torch and set it on a stand, casting light onto the old stone room. There were shelves of glass bottles lining the walls, some filled with liquids, and some were empty. In the very center stood a fireplace sunk into the floor, with a cauldron standing over it. Four corked glass bottles sat in the boiling water, filled with a pale green syrup. It looked more like a Witch’s lair than a Guardian’s hobby room. Esmun took out his potion book and set it on a stand by the door.
“Changits Elixir.” The boy muttered. A sound of ruffling pages came from the book, then he opened the cover to the first page. Scribbled across the top was the name ‘Changits’ with columns of ingredients and instructions scrawled across the page. Esmun grabbed a long pair of tongs, grabbed the cauldron’s bottles, and opened them. Reading from the page, he took four small berries from a bucket and dropped one in each. The berries dissolved, and the liquid turned purple.
“Are they ready? Are they ready?” Warinot asked, looking over Esmun’s shoulder. The boy nodded and handed a bottle to each of the other three.
“Remember to plug your nose,” he said.
Then he emptied his bottle into his mouth.
Chapter 2: here!
Will Fall Writings 