The Forgotten Scrolls: Summoned

My Dearest loved ones,

I write to you from a location which I shan't identify. For to do so is to break every oath I have sworn. All you need to know is that I'm safe and well. In fact in all of my life I have never felt more at peace. Finally, after so long I have found my place in this accursed world. Yet somehow I feel that such a short explanation will not be enough for you. You will continue to spend your lives searching for me despite these assurances. That is why I believe it is crucial that I divulge a little more information. Give you, my beloved ones, an insight into my new life here in subterranean Essos. Each Scroll has a different story, the way one is recruited is tailored to the individual. This is mine.

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THΣ SUMMΩΠS

The parchment was old, dry and crumpled. The edges were frayed and the page carried with it the distinct odor of dust and candle wax. Yet somehow the intricately looped letters, scribed upon its surface with blue-black ink, were unfaded. The parchment may have been old, but the message it contained was not.

"Journey to the sands of Essos child,

Walk 'till you can walk no more.

Then and only then will you find us,

In the place where the knowledge is kept."

The mysterious note had arrived by raven early that morning. There was neither seal nor signature to identify its scribe, and yet as the woman held the crumbly page in her hand she felt her heart swell. For so long she had lived a life without purpose. A life that was as dull and grey as the stone hovel in which she lived. Finaly she had recived the proof that she had searched so long for. She was not like the rest, she was destined for more. After stashing the parchment away in a well worn leather satchel, she collected her few measly possessions. There was no longer anything left for her in the rundown, crumbling building she once called home. Greater prospects awaited. She gazed upon her childhood home once more. Smiling solemnly she ed the many things she had learned here, the laughter she had once shared with her family. Alas such a mundane life had never been a part of her destiny. This she had always been certain of. Steadying herself with a deep breath of foul, city sullied air, she turned her back on the life she had once known.

Water, water was the only thing she craved. The burn of thirst refused to go away. She had spent every last ounce of silver and had sold her most prized possessions in order to reach the shores of Essos. The journey had been difficult, the seas had been rough and unpredictable, and the sailors had been worse. All of that pain and suffering only to die in an uncharted desert in the middle of an unfamiliar continent. Beads of perspiration continued to form on her sunkissed neck as she stumbled forward. Her tongue clung to the roof of her mouth, as rough as the sand that surrounded her. She choked as her lungs seemed to roast in the dusty, furnace like air. The sun continued to burn overhead, a glowing ball of flame that gazed down at her with malevolent eyes. It seemed to bask in her suffering, enjoy the pain it was inflicting. The woman would have cried had she not been so devoid of moisture. Yet despite the hardships the desert threw at her, she kept on going. Mind focused on the old scrap of parchment she had recived on that faithful morning, near five years ago. It had promised her everything she had always wanted. She was willing to risk her life for even the slightest chance of acceptance.

Eventually she could take it no more. Even with her strength of will her body refused to carry her any further. She stumbled once, then twice before going down to her knees. The sand seared her skin as the sun continued to wink down at her. The sky was its co-conspirator, refusing to produce even a wisp of cloud to soften the sun's cruel rays. Taking fist fulls of sand the woman sat bleary eyed in the middle of a blistering wasteland. This was the end. She let out a low mournful wail before allowing her eyes to close. The letter had been nothing but a ruse.

Head pounding and mouth still painfully dry the woman allowed her eyes to flutter open. Her surroundings were unfamiliar but forgivingly cool. She blinked, eyes still bleary and unaccustomed to the dimness of the strange room. Her gaze fixed on a tall ivory candle housed within an old tarnished brass holder. She watched as the tiny flame quivered in an imperceptible draft, thick streams of wax pooling at its base. It was one of many. Scores of candles were placed intermittently throughout the room, casting strange dark shadows that seemed to be living breathing things. Towering bookshelves lined the dark stone walls. Each one appeared to be over stacked with thick ancient looking tomes. Tentatively she sat up. The bed she had somehow ended up upon, creaking beneath her. Her dark hair stuck to her face disgustingly, stiff with dried sweat and sand. Had she actually made it to her destination?

As if reading her mind one of the shadows moved forward and spoke in an old and wizened voice.

"Welcome to the Arc child."

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And that my dears is all I'm willing to tell of my story. The place I now reside is my home now, the Scrolls are my family. It is here that I'll remain for the rest of my days, learning from ancient long forgotten texts. You need not search me out for I am safe and well. As for you I do not feel I can say the same. I am not permitted to say any more, I must not go against the vows I swore so long ago. But know this, something terrible is coming.

I do hope I can write again, and I hope that you're well

Yours Sincerely,

ʆմɕία

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#TFS

#TheForgottenScrolls