The tragic life of Desmond Sycamore
Chapter 1: The Beginning
I guess I should start this off by saying, that some of the events in this book may seem fantastical and almost impossible, but every word is true. Every little thing I talk about in this book, detailing my life, everything is truthful. Anyway, this is the life of an unfortunate man called Desmond Sycamore, a man, that died along with his family. This man, doesn't exist anymore. With that said, I hope the tale of this man will be one of caution for someone, maybe one of hope too, but after all is said and done, this tale is supposed to show how cruel the world can be.
My tale starts at the beginning. I was born as a boy called Hershel Bronev to Leon and Rachel Bronev, an archaeologist and his wife. My father wanted to learn the secrets of the Azran, he worked tirelessly on achieving this goal. About 3 years after I was born, I was given a little brother, his name was Theodore Bronev. I loved him, I always wanted to protect him, sheltering him from the cruelty of the world and one day, I got that chance. Leon and Rachel Bronev were taken away, abducted by an organization calling themselves 'Targent'. They took my parents and left me and Theodore behind. Two children, no older than 10 years old, all alone in a huge house, though hope would soon come, but only for one of us. Neighbours have looked after us for about a month when we got the news that Roland and Lucile Layton wanted to adopt one of us. My brother was the most important person still in my life, so I gave Theodore my name and let him be adopted, as Hershel Layton. I stayed behind, throwing myself into the books our father left behind. A boy, all alone in the house he once called home, trying to forget everything the cruel world did to him. The only thing I could think of, that drove me, was getting revenge. Revenge on the people that took my parents from me, revenge on Targent. I knew that my brother was safe with his new family, but I didn't have that luxury, at least not for another year. Neighbors looked after me, brought me food and clothing, helped with repairs and other things, they even offered me a place to stay during the winter, but I kindly declined their offer, until another family came and took me in. A wealthy family, able to afford my, as they had put it, passing fancy with archaeology. They lived in a small village near London. I never was a very social person, I preferred reading books and expanding my knowledge in whatever field I could get my hands on, but there was a girl in the neighborhood who I saw from my window in my room sometimes. She didn't look much older than my brother, maybe even a year younger. She didn't stand out a lot, except her ruby red hair. I think I have heard her parents or a caretaker or whatever call her by the name 'Scarlett', a fitting name I must confess, and one that will come back to haunt me one day, but I didn't know that at the time.
"You are growing up to a handsome young man, Desmond.", my adoptive mother, Natasha Sycamore, stated when I turned 15. I just shrugged it off, I didn't care much about my appearance or anything like that. My adoptive father, Simon Sycamore, had other plans for me. While my parents weren't against me fancying archaeology, as long as I don't neglect my other studies and activities, like my fencing classes or the French lessons, which I never really thought were useful at all, but my parents paid for those lessons and I kinda enjoyed them anyway.
"Desmond, my boy, I want you to take over the family business.", father said one day at dinner. I just looked at him and refused, explaining that I will be an archaeologist. My parents weren't really fond of me wanting to pursue that career, thinking that I would end like my biological parents, but I didn't care. I wanted to be able to find a way to uncover the Azran Legacy before Targent is able to.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you yet again, father. I'm not going to take over the family business. I'm not particularly fond of….whatever it is.", I said at that time and just left the dinner table to get to my room to pack some things to go explore. Of course, ruining the perfectly nice clothes that my parents have gotten me. I'm an archaeologist and not a doll that needs to be preserved.
As soon as I was finished with school I applied to the Gressenheller University in London to study archaeology and moved to London two weeks before the semester started. I didn't make any friends, why would I? Every time I get close to people, they are taken from me. I swore to never become close to someone, just to protect them. I'm better off alone. Or so I thought. People are designed to be social, we can only survive in groups, as long as we trust each other, but can we be sure that the people we trust have pure intentions? No matter what, I'm sceptical about it, even when it comes to love. How can another human sacrifice everything for another, even if the other doesn't feel the same? At this point in time, I had no idea that I would fall hard and fast for someone.