4 Within pages

That branded bell prickling against the lukewarm embrace of the tub... By the time I woke Harry had already gone. Something like this, reacting to something in this manner, has never happened to me before. It just feels like I am getting closer to something but I'm not sure about what, my wings, their coiling slowly around my front half-submerged, almost clinging to my skin... I must be nervous, Harry I hope you will stay safe out there, stay safe and... help me make sense of this. The growling, the descent of those indescribable things, let this trip be a peaceful one, please if there's anything left out there listening... let him return in one piece.

My skin, my wings, they're soaking against that dark towel, I should change it out with the red one after this... Should I perhaps eat some of those oranges for breakfast, they do look plump and juicy. But the bread loaves, I should focus on them for the first few days, bread and fruit, anything already dry or canned must wait in case this trip will be a long one. Before then, these should last the first week... My chest, that cold pressing clutch, why must I be so weak? No, remember the good things... and when he returns I'll help him remember too, for that's all I can do.

Taking a look, I don't really feel that hungry, ever since I woke with the brand I've been nauseous, that was the word right? That uncomfortable clench edging towards rejecting what I got left from yesterday while the world stays unsteady. I should just... lay down a bit more before I take those first few bites, it will probably pass... it must. The cold sheets, evening me out... feels good. By the edge of the bed I put it right, yes, right here, I wanted to start on it after I finished the last one yesterday, the new gift of tales by old, I should start soon. The cover cracked and defaced, holding untold mysteries within... soon, the room is spinning, I should close my eyes, a bit should be fine right?

Shrouds... Ringings of a bell in the distance, a creeping cold enveloping my skin, why is it so cold where is... Argh, it's burning... that brand, why? Where am I? It's so dark, am I about to see, or am I stuck in this empty and cold in-between? There, in the distance, there is something... some sort of dark shape rising from the deep, enveloped by its surroundings, barely an outline, tall and lanky, there is something hanging from its neck, or is it perhaps its mouth? Ivory... a mangled crown of bones dripping with something red... and a bit further up, something is opening, eying every inch of me from an oculus of pure white... no, stay away. Why can't I move?! Why? "No!".

The room, I am back in the room, my body feels like it has been submerged in cold water, I'm shaking, and my skin, covered in glistening sweat, from my toes to the tip of my wings. Just what was that? Why was the crown... my head, feels just like my palm, prickling, a burn hazing my vision, even with this pain, I'm glad it seems to be over. Everything is heavy... but I don't want to fall asleep again, not yet, I need some energy, an orange maybe? My stomach, it's churning but the world has stopped spinning, should get to it before I start on the book. Should keep me up, at least until night falls again.

The juices from the orange are potent, energizing, a sour yet fresh taste lingering on my lips. Just what was needed, didn't even realize how parched my throat was when I woke. One more for later and then maybe one slice of that bread, I should take a small sip of water right now, save more for the drier meals. I should wash up a bit... before I start parting those precious pages.

The outside, it truly seems frail and brittle but the pages themselves are smoother and more elastic than I thought they would be, tho a bit dry to the touch, even if I feel like this, I can't keep my wings from fluttering slightly. I wonder what the first story will be?

"The Forest King"

"Out by the workers in the meadows, there's a tale traveling from the commons even reaching the ears of Baron Keithon and his wife Miralda, maybe even further than that, to some of the lords and ladies of Ag Tosu. The stories have intrigued me for a while now, those legendary tales from the mouths of our subjects, as the third son I want nothing but to gather them within pages like these, especially after I faced the truth of this particular tale in that almost indescribable clearing within the forest of Crioch." This person seems to cherish stories, much like me, maybe for different reasons, but to dedicate yourself to immortalize stories like these, I can't wait to continue.

"Regardless, the story of the Forest King goes like so; If you are out and about, vexed by curiosity or secrets or covet for truth you can pray for an audience. You do so by sacrificing something of value to the forest and if it acknowledges you it will lead you to him, the one always wandering gazing the world clearer than anything before or to come." To covet for truth? To yearn for something that might just be hidden from you is it not? Who is this King? My heart, pounding a soft yet exciting beat against my chest.

"But me as the son of a baron, what could I sacrifice for value? Gold? Riches? Resources? From what is the sacrifice measured if the common worker can both be denied or granted? Something personal perhaps, something to show the sincerity of your wish perhaps? That was the conclusion that I reached on that August day third of the week if I remember correctly, I placed myself by the entrance of Crioch holding the first pen gifted to me by father and a letter with a promise, something that I could grant, something I did after my return. I stood there and watched in awe as the mossy ground by the forest edge swallowed my offering, and as it did an unnatural wind blew against my face, a welcoming scent beckoning me to follow. As I kept following this gentle stream I suddenly found myself standing in a vibrant clearing bathed in the colors of sunrise and sprung by orchids of every palette and there right in the middle that royal vessel of the Forest King stood welcoming me for the audience." Clearing, a royal vessel, could it be?

"It was more than I could have imagined, that crown springing from its head and those eyes like clear crystalized honey seeing all there is to see, as I asked it questions it answered by showing me the images, the things I had coveted to see and know. As the sunset, the time ran out and my surroundings seemed to fade, I now found myself by the forest edge as the moon was peeking over the meadows in the distance, filled to the brim to see my promise trough as soon as I could. That meeting truly gave what was before a meager wish meaning, and just after the erection of his idol I started this journey hoping to immortalize stories like his." He's talking about him! He must be.