It was a faint jingle that woke the knowledge spirit. She knew the sound all too well, how could one forget the racket that preceded the fire damage wreaked on several shelves of first edition books. Eyes shooting open, Fable sat up quickly, practically throwing two manic elves across the room. She remembered now, Lydia, Pitch… Taking a deep breath, she brushed the stray curls from her face. Catching sight of some the cuts on her arms, the blood was kept at bay by the sand, resulting in a series of black lines. Fable bit her lip and got out of bed, going to her bag, pulling out a roll of cloth strips, brown in color. While wrapping her arms, she went about pondering the best course of action. On the bedside table, she found a plate of fruitcake, a glass of milk, and a new book (a rare biography of Joan of Arc) for her collection. In spite of herself, Fable smiled at North's means of apologizing. Running her fingers across the book, she opened it and eyed the font, and the yellowed pages. Leaning in she whispered to it, after she shut it and placed it into her bag, watching as it made its journey to her library.
She knew what books she would need. In New York, her mind had been clouded by loss and worry, now she could think clearly. For the time being, she could forgive the Guardians for dragging her back to North's shop. Though she hated to admit when she was wrong, Fable knew it had to be done. The knowledge spirit had been in hysterics, crying, yelling, the anger…. Pausing, her hand strayed to her back, fingers stroking the 5 year sand scab through her shirt. 5 years was the mere blink of an eye to any immortal, the same could be said for the battle scar. A wound set upon an immortal by an immortal resulted in long standing pain, and a healing process that required years, perhaps decades for it to scab over. Through hours of study and magic, Fable had managed to speed the scabbing up by a few years. It still cut her to the core like a fire tipped icicle, freezing but scorching all at once. More so when Pitch was at his most active and dangerous. Even now, she could feel a prick of pain up and down her spine.
Taking a deep breath, the knowledge spirit pushed any thoughts of her injury aside. She needed to focus on one thing and one thing only; getting Lydia away from that monster. There were many things that Pitch Black was capable of. Though there was no textual proof, due to the loss of her journals, Fable had seen the Boogeyman drive many a mortal to death, or worse, insanity. Mortals could not stay in his presence for too long, fear made mad men out of scholars. In her time with the Nightmare King, she'd seen evidence of such truths.
Lydia was a child, innocent despite all her hardships. For the time being, the girl had something to stave off Pitch and whatever his said, but the passing of time made in the most courageous, weak. Regardless of the stories that Fable had given her to provide the self-assurance and strength, Pitch was well versed in sowing the seeds of doubt, reaping the fear as if he were Damon the Mower.
Pulling her shoulders back, Fable found herself looking into a mirror. Such thoughts had hardened her eyes, the warmth no longer present, replaced with cool calculation. A war was coming, and the Nightmare King was going to understand was terror really meant once she got her hands on him. No one harmed a child under Fable's protection. Her reflection sneered, and its eyes glittered, hinting malice, loose strands of leather brown hair looked as if it were producing tendrils of smoke. The physical echo displayed a rage that had been building up against the Boogeyman for so many centuries.
Her right hand traveled up to the lose bun, grasping the red leather handle to the knife that kept her hair in place. Slowly, Fable pulled it loose. Watching as the blade elongated into a half of a double broad sword. With a swift nod to the mirror, Fable left the room, blade firm in her grip.
Author's Note: I am really sorry for the long wait on this chapter, and the fact that it's so bloody short. At long last, Spring term is over. No homework or lecture classes for a good three months. So I can focus a bit more on my personal projects.
On a happier note, I finally treated myself to the the trilogy "The Guardians" (what Rise of the Guardians is based on), and I am learning sooooo much about the characters. Very in-depth character profiles. Need I mention the illustrations in the books are simply gorgeous? I highly recommend these books, if you're an adult, teenager, or child. Really wonderful books
Also, I am working with a friend of deviantart in making a Rise of the Guardians comic, called "Guardians Academia." I figured you wonderful people would love to get a look at it. The illustrations are done by my friend ZombieOwl and we collaborate for the story as well as the script. So here is the link!
zombieowl (d0t) deviantart (d0t) com/art/Guardian-Academia-Prologue-page-I-37257663 2
I also have another question for you my dear readers, I would like to know your age. I ask this because I am curious about what my stories and writing style attracts age wise. So humor me, and give me your answer in a PM or a review.
So, that said, good night unto you my darlings!