The Meaning Of Eternity (TMOE #1)

Chapter 26: Tales of the past

Had the Wyrmdon air always been so stale? How could being outside in the cold feel so suffocating? It took more effort than Lucius would've expected to take a deep, trembling breath as he stepped out of the carriage.

It was boring. Oh so boring. South Kerilia wasn't the wealthiest and the entire town was a haphazard, structural mess, but it was charming; A blend of charming nooks and bridges with vibrant colors here and there. Wyrmdon was about as bleak and uninspired as a funeral parlour.

Lucius let out a deep sigh. The idea of returning to his childhood home wasn't a welcome idea, but it was the only one he had.

A sudden presence around his legs almost caused him to trip.

"Scourge—Fucking damn it!" He glared down at the nightmarish blight-cat as it bounced back to stare at him. It'd followed him all the way to Wyrmdon?

"Why can't you leave me alone?" he hissed as low as possible to not attract attention. "I'm not going back just to claim a stupid position, so stop sending blights after me already!"

"If it bothers you so much you could just kill it, you know?"

Lucius huffed as he walked. He had no idea what happened to blights if they were destroyed. For all he knew it could explode in his face, or evolve into a monster that could bite his head off.

The view didn't improve as he got closer to the most central areas of town. He supposed the child version of him found it much more intriguing since it was the only outside view he'd known.

Rubbing his stinging, reddened eyes he looked around for signs to try and find his way. They'd lived near a big marketplace so that would be his main goal to begin with. There had to be a sign somewhere.

He caught himself with tense shoulders as people walked past him. Nine years and he was still afraid someone would recognize him. People had moved on. No one cared about the Cromwell family anymore.

I think.

Finally something looked familiar. It wasn't the street he'd lived on and he couldn't spot a marketplace anywhere but he'd definitely been there before. If he wasn't mistaken he'd seen it in a daze, perhaps as part of one of his nightmares.

"Oh." Realization dawned on him as he noticed the bright, welcoming house with small ponds. "Marilyn's house."

He'd almost forgotten. In the midst of chaotic events being thrown at him without a stop he barely had time to focus on things in his life that'd been pretty good.

Marilyn had been a good friend. They hadn't gotten to spend as much time together as either of them would've liked, but she was the one person who'd been close enough for him to consider a friend.

Who was he fooling though? He wouldn't walk up and knock on their door. Chances were she'd already moved out anyway and what would he say if she hadn't? That he was back and ready to start a normal life, wishing to be her friend again?

He frowned at the idea. He'd already dismissed it as ridiculous, but why? Was it so outlandish? Why wouldn't he try and reconnect with her?

Shame.

He couldn't tell her about everything he'd been through. Would he even be able to look her in the eyes? She must've learned what had happened to his parents and figured things out. For all she knew he was a murderer, and his life up until now certainly didn't improve his image.

Shaking the ideas away, he increased his pace. For better or worse, at least he knew how to find his old home from there.

As if it hadn't been a tragic sight before. It was the same dull, grey house as always. The only difference this time was the overgrown garden. An overabundance of perennials were struggling against the copious amounts of different weeds, and shoots from invasive raspberry bushes had sprung from the ground here and there like thorny whips.