Chapter Forty

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I am standing in a garden. The grounds are immaculate. The cream stone paths slice into the green field with sharp precision, not one weed pointing out between the stone tiles. Sections of flowers decorate perfect little squares and a small pond sits right in the centre. An elaborate statue of a rearing horse stands at the centre, water dancing around its hooves. Green lilypads with pretty pink and white flowers glide along the surface. The gardens are spectacular.

I am so lost in my daydreaming, that I jump as a young boy runs through me. It reminds me that I am not really here. I am an observer. Though what I am observing, I am still not sure. Though looking at the horse in the pond, my guess it has something to do with my father. The horse is the symbol of House Baylon, the family my father is from. That and the last vision I had was of his birth.

The boy comes to a stop at the pond and runs his fingers along the water. I walk closer to him. He wears a fine red shirt, embroidered with golden swirls. His black hair has been neatly pulled back and his pale skin is spotless of any sort of dirt. My guess is that he can't be older than seven. His face is so young, yet the way he has been dressed and groomed does not suit his age. It's like he is a young boy, dressing up to be a prince.

Another boy runs over. "Master Matt!" he shouts. I look at the new child. He is very different to the rich boy. He wears a grubby white shirt and brown trousers that don't quite fit. His dark, bronze skin is stained slightly with mud and his dark brown hair is ruffled and messy.
"Tristan!" the rich boy shouts with a wide grin.
"Come on master Matt, I have something to show you," the boy grins and takes the young masters hand.

By now, there are no doubts in my mind that this child is my father. Though who the other boy is I do not know. He drags Matthias to a flower bed.
"My father planted these last year so they would flower this year," the boy says as he stands proudly. From that statement, my guess is that he is the gardener's son.
"They are pretty," my father replies with a small smile. His fingers stroke delicately at the bright red petals.
"When you are the master of this manner, will you make me your gardener?" Tristan asks, looking at Matthias.
My young father frowns.
"Of course. Why would you ask such a stupid question? You and I are going to be best friends forever," he smiles. Tristan's eyes widen and he steps back with a small gasp, his head quickly pointing to the ground. Matthias tilts his head confused.
"Matthias?" a deep, cold voice speaks from behind him. I look up, seeing my grandfather looming over my father. Shivers run through my body as Sebastian Baylon glares down on his son with the icy blue eyes.
"Yes, father," Matthias squeaks.
"What are you doing playing with the gardener's boy? Do you not understand that these people are your employees and not your friends? You are above them and should not bring yourself to their level." The way he speaks the last few sentences is with such disgust that again I find my shivering as my grandfather sneers at the young boy. "And are you admiring flowers?" he spits. Matthias looks down at his feet. "Men don't admire flowers. Only women like such pretty things. You are a young man. The only fields you should be in are the training ones. The only red you should be admiring is the blood of those you defeat."
"Yes father," Matthias replies with a shaking voice.
"Come," Sebastian orders and starts walking away. Matthias hurries behind him, turning back to give Tristan a small smile before he leaves.
...

I look at the book entranced as my I hear whispers of my name in my head.
"Illyana. Illyana." Like it is pleading with me to read it. A thundering sound distracts me, breaking me out of the spell. I frown and look into the forest. The thundering gets louder and I realise that it the sound of heavy hooves stomping against the ground. Hundreds of them.
"Nianzu!" I shout, rushing to him and dropping the book. "Centaurs!" They appear from the forest and into the clearing. Their voice all mould together as they shout my name. Nianzu grabs my hand and we run to the cliff. He swings me up onto his back and leaps off. His body transforms as we fall into that of the dragon and we fly out of reach. I look behind me and back at the cliffs as hundreds of Centaurs line it. I see as one leans down and picks up the book I drop. A feeling of dread fills the pit of my stomach.

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