The Storm We Start || Book One

Extra: Glimpse of the Past

This was a short piece I wrote for my writing class, and the assignment was to describe a character by their living space. So, I chose Ordephus, heh.

Noctifer honestly never thought such a place existed. For a man such as Ordephus, who traveled between locations so frequently that rumors said he never stayed in a single area for more than two months, this seemed impossible. He never imagined Ordephus owning a house—a tower—and much less having a personal living space. But here he was, physically standing in the legend's bedroom.

At first glance, it looked like any Nimnian-era bedroom, albeit in better condition. It was in surprisingly good condition, in fact, for being centuries old. A four-poster bed sat along the wall to the right. Dark blue covers and curtains adorned it, silver tassels dangling down and faded with time. A single bookcase stood on the opposite side, and it wasn't as filled as the workshop a floor below.

But what caught his attention the most was the desk that sat just under the tall, arched window. It was easily the oldest piece in the room. Underneath all the stray pieces of parchment, quills, ink, and books, he could see the signs of use. Corners were chipped, surfaces were scratched and stained, candle soot nearly covered the intricately painted patterns and gold leaves, a knob to a drawer was missing and was replaced by a cork...Noctifer couldn't quite tell if it was well-loved or horridly neglected. However, other details told a much larger story.

The sides of the desk had harsh lacerations, mostly on the left, as if someone had thrown it to the side several times. There was a chair in the corner of the room, one that looked to have matched the desk, laying on its side with a leg broken off. Ash scattered the ground along with ripped and crumpled pieces of paper. And if he looked closely, he could see scars in the wood, as if the desk had broken in half and then magically put back together.

At a second glance, the signs of past outbursts scattered everywhere around the room. Scourges and gashes laced into stone and wood alike along with the remnants of destroyed items. Although none of this surprised him, nor did he blame Ordephus for causing this destruction, either. He knew the grief that lay underneath a man who had everything taken from him over and over again. Nothing showed this more than a single, painted portrait that perched above the bed.

The face was burnt and looked as if a knife had slashed through it several times, and there was a gold plate at the bottom, its engravings proudly glinting in the light as it spelled, "Ordephus of Nimn."

And below that, carved deep into the stone, was the word, "Traitor."