There was cold and dark.
Septimus opened his eyes and saw the underside of an arch with icicles hanging down, and snowflakes lazily falling from a grey sky. He sat up, stuffed his nearly blue hands under his arms and looked around.
He was sitting in a snowbank at one of the gates, north or south he couldn't tell, and wore the grey and black uniform of a chief cadet uniform from the young army.
That was different.
He stood and grabbed a spear that was presumably his. This was the strangest dream he had ever had.
"Oi! 412, I'm here for the shift change. It's lunch at the Barracks so hurry up if you wanna eat," yelled a boy around his age.
Septimus was at a loss, "Um... anything good?"
"Nah," the boy shrugged, "just the usual. You need to get a move on though if you want more than air."
Septimus nodded and quickly set out in the direction the boy had come from, while trying to piece together what was going on in his head. He headed up Maker's Mile from what turned out to be the South gate. He turned down the first main street which led past the Palace and to Wizard Way. He slowed his pace after he turned the corner and took in hos surroundings.
Shops were boarded up, people looked out at him through cracked doors, and watched him pass with fear in their faces. Everything seemed grey and lifeless, like when he had actually been in the Young Army only worse. A feeling of despair, fear and hate pervaded the air. Septimus felt Ill-Watching eyes all around him, and knew that no one on this street was happy about his presence. He had to take several deep breathes to keep himself from running. There were patterned tracks up and down both sides of the street, a march had been done not long ago, and probably more boys taken from their families. No wonder people were angry.
Septimus had no intention of going to the Barracks. He had spent the first ten years of his life there in misery, and was never going back. He slowly made his way down the long street and could see the Palace just ahead. Septimus reached the cross road and saw a banner blowing in the wind. It was bright red with three black stars. Septimus' heart sank right down into his boots.
It was impossible, absolutely impossible, and there it was big as day.
A banner sporting the stars of DomDaniel hung from the Palace wall.
A large hand came to rest on his shoulder, he was unceremoniously yanked into an alley between two buildings, and spun around. Before him stood a tall man with lots of muscles, a smith if Septimus had to guess, he looked haunted and angry as if he hadn't slept in days. "You're going to deliver a message for me boy," he said gruffly, raising a hammer above his head, "they took my son so I'm going to take one of their 'finest'."
Septimus ducked just in time to avoid having his head split open like a melon. "S-sir I don't have anything to do with recruiting, I swear."
"you're a liar you little gimlet, you took my son, you knocked him out and dragged him away," the man bellowed his face turning red.
"I-I ... I'm sorry, I have been in the Young Army all my life and believe me no one wants to be apart of it anymore than you want you're son to be conscripted into it," Septimus said shrinking back from his attacker.
"Sorry boy but it's just not your lucky day," the man took a step forward and Septimus took a step back quickly Freezing the man. He stood towering over Septimus hammer raised and a broken look on his face.
Septimus abandoned the spear and set off for the Tower. Maybe going home would help him think and make sense of things. He wasn't completely sure that this wasn't in fact some crazy dream, but it felt real, he could feel the cold, he could hear the snow crunch beneath his boots with every step he took, and smell the wood smoke in the air.
It felt real but it couldn't be.
The road ran alongside the Palace's outer wall and the farther he went the more banners he saw. It made no sense, DomDaniel had been dead for years, but dream or not, Marcia would be able to help.
The front gates of the Palace were closed and two Custodian Guards stood watch, arms to their sides, swords in their scabbards, and blank expressions. carved into the stone arch above the gate was the three stars. Septimus gave an involuntary shiver at the sight of the Palace and the Darke aura that radiated out of it.
Septimus pulled his cloak around himself and passed Ceremonial Way which housed the Young Army barracks without a glance.
Wizard Way was eerily empty compared to the normal hustle and bustle of an afternoon. The normal weaving in out and around people was not needed as only a hand full of people milled around shop fronts, quietly talking to themselves, and falling silent as Septimus came near.
Larry's Dead Languages was dark but that wasn't particularly strange. The Manuscriptorium was lit in its usual fashion, but as Septimus came even with the door he saw three black stars painted on the wood. Septimus shook his head things were bad when even the Manuscriptorium aligned itself with DomDaniel.
Septimus continued on through the great arch and into the court yard. He was surprised that there were no guards posted out front as there had always been. It was completely empty, and at the top of the marble stairs the great silver door that guarded the entrance of the Wizard Tower stood open and tarnished. 'This can't be happening. This can not be happening.' He runs up the stairs and into the great hall. No Magykle lights shone in the cavernous space, there is a thick layer of dust on every surface, the floor has no message and feels like clay beneath his feet.
Septimus stood stalk still and listened closely for the sound of a human heart beat.
Nothing.
AN: So here I go again. God it's been a while. Feels great to be back and writing, and actually having time to write. This story has been bugging me forever so here it is. I hope yall enjoy it. It's going to be a few more weeks before I can get an actual consistent update going so umm... yeah don't hold your breath for an update. Reviews are love.