Story Summary
Ethan is a soul in the Underworld with no memory of his life on Earth. He is bought and sold by various masters for centuries. Traveling from large industrial towns to scorching hot deserts. During his journey he picks up the skills, knowledge and magic to escape his enslavement. He runs with the intent of living a free life, but is pursued by agents until he's cornered on a remote mountain range. With little time left, Ethan begins to recount his life and masters in the hope of leaving a record of his existence. These are his memories.
My old master accumulated a collection of magical artifacts during his time alive, so I knew that his study was the best place to search for the things that I needed.
I silently snuck into his bedroom that afternoon, past Mira who was sobbing into one of Alistair's shirts, and took the key from a small drawer beside his bed.
The study was smaller than the library, but still large enough to contain three cabinets of magical artifacts, several bookshelves, and a desk in the corner overflowing with notes. The floor was littered with books that Alistair had pulled off the shelf, then aimlessly discarded when he couldn't find what he wanted. There were also maps of the Underworld decorating the walls, and I'd later regret not studying them more closely.
"Sorry for the intrusion, Master," I apologized and quietly crept inside.
I walked past a bookshelf which was stuffed with mouldy encyclopedias on magic. I'd attempted browsing through them before, but unlike the book in my hands, the language was too old and complex for me then. I was always envious of how a party boy like Alistair could recite them with ease, and he pulled off most of his magic by chanting those ancient words.
I pulled one of the books off the shelf to take a closer look, but it immediately ripped into two and the pages crumbled to the floor.
I silently snuck into his bedroom that afternoon, past Mira who was sobbing into one of Alistair's shirts, and took the key from a small drawer beside his bed.
The study was smaller than the library, but still large enough to contain three cabinets of magical artifacts, several bookshelves, and a desk in the corner overflowing with notes. The floor was littered with books that Alistair had pulled off the shelf, then aimlessly discarded when he couldn't find what he wanted. There were also maps of the Underworld decorating the walls, and I'd later regret not studying them more closely.
"Sorry for the intrusion, Master," I apologized and quietly crept inside.
I walked past a bookshelf which was stuffed with mouldy encyclopedias on magic. I'd attempted browsing through them before, but unlike the book in my hands, the language was too old and complex for me then. I was always envious of how a party boy like Alistair could recite them with ease, and he pulled off most of his magic by chanting those ancient words.
I pulled one of the books off the shelf to take a closer look, but it immediately ripped into two and the pages crumbled to the floor.
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