Dusky Biscuit & The Book of Wonders
Chapter One
The Black Book - Part One
Fifteen hundred years had passed since the great calamity, and it was now the year fifteen fifty of the New Era in the kingdom of New Isdonia.
Dusky Biscuit, of the noble Biscuit family, took pride in being a bookworm—and indeed he was. That night, he crept through the halls of his family’s estate, heading toward the grand library to indulge his passion for reading. Accompanying him was Fedor, a stray cat carrying a cookie in his mouth and a candle to light their way. At the same time, Violetta, his maid, was searching for him.
Dusky had inherited his love for books from his late father, Sir Robinson Biscuit, a renowned member of the Raiders Guild and a grand magic knight of the Isdonian kingdom. Three years ago, Sir Robinson met his demise in a distant land, and his remains were lost in the wilderness, never to be recovered. He had a treasured Book, but was hidden somewhere inside the library, which led to Dusky’s nightly routine of visiting and searching for answers about his father’s sudden disappearance—beyond his obsession with books.
Sir Robinson had a passion for collecting books during his journeys, a tradition upheld by his father and forefathers, as if they were all searching for one particular Book. They had amassed a vast collection of books and tomes throughout their lifetimes, leading to the creation of Biscuit's Grand Library—a thousand-year accumulation of tales and knowledge housed in towering bookshelves, passed down through generations.
The day before he left for the last time, Sir Robinson, standing by the door, said to his son, "If you manage to answer this riddle, the book is all yours. And once you find it, I will tell you our family's secret when I return."
"Really? Then what's the riddle, Dad?" asked Dusky.
"Behind sealed doors, in shadows deep,
I wait where only blood can seep.
Locked away from prying eyes,
A truth that only lineage buys.
Keys of birth, not iron or gold,
Will break the spell and secrets hold.
By rightful hand, my tale is sought—
Who am I, and where am I caught?" he said.
"Hmm... Why is it so hard?" Dusky frowned.
"Haha! Of course, for it is a test, my son. I will be leaving now. Take good care of your mother for me, okay?" Sir Robinson said, placing a hand on Dusky's head.
Dusky nodded. "Okay, I'll be waiting as always."
"Goodbye, my son."
"Goodbye, Dad."
Dusky believed that the book his father was talking about might be hidden inside the library.
Dusky tiptoed down the hallway with Fedor and arrived at the library’s entrance. He paused at the door, glancing over his shoulder to look out for Violetta before laying his hand on the brass handles. The door creaked open, revealing the library's dark interior. Fedor entered first, and Dusky followed, heading to his secret spot. He sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by stacks of books, his form was barely visible. Fedor lay on top of the books, munching on his cookies.
Dusky wrinkled his nose as he sneezed from the scent of paper that filled the air. The candlelight cast a halo around his face as he placed the candle on the floor, accentuating his features and the scattering of freckles on his cheeks. Books, both small and large, lay scattered around him, some open and others closed, creating a fortress of knowledge that both surrounded and isolated him.
Dusky’s hair glowed in the light as he hunched over a large tome and exclaimed, “Fedor! Look at this!” The silence was broken as he squealed and rustled the pages, adding, “There were dragons and sea nymphs from a long time ago! This is so cool!”
“Meow...” replied Fedor, licking his paws.
Dusky frowned and said, “I wish Dad were here. How will I find his journal in this sea of books? Why did he have to give me such a riddle? He could have just given it to me straight, right? Fedor?”
“Meow...” replied Fedor again, this time on his back.
“It’s not fair... Not that I complain, though,” mumbled Dusky.
His eyes continued to scan the text while the world around him blurred into the background. The ancient volumes seemed to whisper secrets in the quiet, lost in the silent conversation between the words and his imagination. The gloom of the library felt less like a shadow and more like a cocoon, enveloping him in a world where only he and the stories existed.
As Dusky clutched the book, a voice emerged from the shadows and hissed, “Veeeeniiii huUuUuc…”
"Rrrr!..." hissed Fedor back at the voice, standing on his paws and pointing his nose toward the direction.
“Who’s there?” gasped Dusky, frozen in place, as the whisper slithered through his ears and into the darkness.
The voice produced a low, sibilant tone that seemed to slither through the air, each word dripping with an unsettling mixture of malice and melancholy. The voice sounded neither male nor female, but a blend of both, echoing off the walls with a supernatural resonance. It used a language that felt ancient and forgotten, its tones so eerie that the very air grew colder as it spoke. The shadows appeared to writhe and twist as if responding to the voice's command, deepening the sense of dread that settled with a crushing weight in Dusky's stomach.
The voice seeped once more from the shadows. But this time, there were many, and they beckoned, “VeEeEeEeniiiii…”
Unable to bear the deafening whispers, Fedor growled, "Rrrr!..." and ventured into the darkness.
“Fedor?” said Dusky as he closed the book. He took a breath and followed Fedor, carrying the candle with him. As he moved toward the voice, his heart pounded with each step as he called, “Hey, where did you go?”
Fedor ventured deeper into the abyss, drawn by the voices from the dark corners of the library.
“Where are you, Fedor?” Dusky glanced around wary of potential threats as he inched closer, navigating his way through the dancing shadows cast by moonlight on the floor. The creaking of the ancient beams rang in his ears as he muttered, “I don’t feel good about this.”
Dust-covered tomes fell as Fedor passed through them. The voices, now clearer, beckoned them deeper into the labyrinth of shelves, “VeEeEeEeniiiii…”
Dusky struggled to breathe as he coughed from the dust and said, “What is going on?”
In the dust-filled corners, he stumbled upon Fedor standing on guard. The cat stared and growled at a door, half-hidden behind a curtain of cobwebs. The door bore strange symbols that pulsed with an eerie glow. Dusky ran toward him and called, “Fedor!”
Fedor jumped, startled by his voice, hissing and growling as he darted out the window. Dusky reached out his hand to him and yelled, “Wait! Don’t leave me here!”
Dusky glanced back at the door and pondered, This... door—I haven’t seen this door before. His legs dragged on the floor as he stepped toward it, as if something or someone was pushing him against his will. His fingers trembled as he reached out, brushing aside the cobwebs to reveal a rusty handle.
Emanating from behind the door, the voice beckoned one last time, “IiiiintrāĀāĀāā…”
Dusky's pulse pounded in his ear as he turned the handle. The door creaked open, revealing a passage leading into the depths of the unknown. He swallowed hard as he stepped inside alone.
The passage narrowed as Dusky braved each step. He moved toward the end and found himself in a room. The light shone on a single bookshelf against the far wall. His eyes widened as he stared at the piece of furniture and pondered, Why is there a bookshelf here? Its presence was a contrast in the darkness. He took a step toward it, and the light cast a glow on the wood, revealing the texture of the grain and the dust that had accumulated over time. His gaze wandered over the few books and noticed that their titles were faded. As their spines skimmed the light, his breath created puffs of air that made the flame waver and dance.
As he traced the edges of the books, a loud noise erupted from within the room. Dusky leaped and exclaimed, “What was that!” His voice cracked as he fumbled, loosening his grip on the candle. He spun around, eyes widening as he searched for the source. Spotting something on the floor, his lips quivered as he said, “What? It’s a book? Where did it came from?”
Dusky crouched and set the candle down. He fixed his gaze on The Black Book lying on the floor. He noticed the back cover was scuffed and marred by time and the elements. He felt a pull as if the book was calling out to him. He took a step toward it, his hands quivering, and his fingers twitched as he reached out to pick it up. He clutched it with his hands as he lifted it, brushing and blowing off the dust, and thought, It’s pretty old and worn out. He traced the edge, and as he turned the book over, he noticed a glimmer on the front cover. He looked closer, his breath caught in his throat as he gasped, “Whoa!”
There, engraved into the leather, was a crest. “Wow...” Dusky marveled at the design, which featured a dragon coiling with its wings tucked in as if guarding something. The scales, etched with precision, sparkled in a way that made the creature appear to ripple under his touch.
As his eyes were fixed on it, the book flung wide open. “Whoa!” gasped Dusky, his fingers released their grip, and the book tumbled back to the floor with a thud. He froze as the pages flickered and danced like wings in a storm. The sound of paper grew, rising from a whisper to a clamor before it stopped, its pages stilling at the center.
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Dusky stared at the book, catching his breath in puffs. He knelt to take a closer look, but his eyes flickered as he discovered the pages were blank. They pulsed with menace as he pondered, Why... is it blank?
The pages hummed with energy, as if they were waiting—waiting for someone to unlock the mysteries within. Dusky leaned to take a closer look as letters began to swirl and form on the once-blank pages as if drawn by an invisible hand. Dark ink seeped into the paper, creating words that hadn't been there moments before. His breath hitched as he read the words now on the page:
—Heed Thy Call. The Time Has Come. Vanquish Thy Evil.—The freshly inked letters pulsed.
A chill ran down Dusky’s spine as he gasped, “What do you mean?” His eyes fixed on the text, and with a quick motion, he slammed the book shut. The book closed with a sharp crack, reverberating through the room. Dusky staggered backward and yelped, “Ow!” as he pricked his palm on the shelf with a broken piece of wood. His chest rose and fell as blood dripped from his fingers.
The book remained closed on the floor; its secrets remained hidden behind its cover. Dusky pressed a hand against his trembling leg, his breath ragged as he stared and said, “Are you the one who called for me?” His voice shook. “What do you want from me?” he added as he clenched his bloody fist, struggling to comprehend what had just happened.
The silence was profound, and the book lay silent on the floor. But it was broken when Violetta's voice entered inside the room, calling from afar, "Dusky! Where are you!"
Dusky heard her voice and gasped, “Oh no!” He got up in a hurry and reached for the book, clutching it with both hands and smearing the cover with his blood as he hurried toward the exit. He slipped the book into his robe’s pocket. Then, the bloodied markings on the cover glowed and read, “Valtherion's heir confirmed,” and a fog began to emanate from it.
Dusky stopped in his tracks, frozen, and said, “Hmm? Where did this fog come from?” He looked down and exclaimed, “What sorcery is this?”
Dusky clutched his chest as the fog billowed inside the room. The mist, thick and opaque, curled and draped over him like a shroud. It moved with a quickness, as if it were alive, twisting and turning in patterns that made it difficult to predict. The air grew colder, and a damp chill settled on his skin, making him shiver. He coughed as he inhaled its earthy scent. The fog seemed to pulse with an eerie rhythm, almost as though it were breathing, shifting its form with each subtle gust of wind from an unseen source. His breath came in rapid gasps. Shadows wavered and danced, creating fleeting, phantom-like shapes as it swirled and enveloped him.
Dusky’s eyes darted around the fog and exclaimed, “Surely, this must be a trick of the mind!” He tried to take a step but yelled, “I can’t move!” The wall of mist thickened, closing in and preventing his escape. The world spun around him, and his legs gave way as he muttered, “No, I’m getting sleepy,” before losing consciousness and collapsing to the floor.
The fog engulfed him and filled the room. As it faded away and returned to where it came from, it changed the surroundings with its supernatural powers.
Moments before the fog disappeared, Violetta, his twenty-year-old maid, entered the library and called, "Dusky? Are you here in here?" But the door and the room disappeared, she then muttered, "That's weird, I thought I heard noises." She then moved to the next location.
After a while, Violetta slumped her shoulders, her breath coming in bursts as she said, “Dusky? Where are you? Show yourself already—Come on, enough with the games,” her voice tinged with worry. She added, “Melena will surely fire me for this. I'll check the stables,” her lips quivering as she sprinted.
Violetta stopped her search for a moment after seeing the cat Fedor sitting on top of a statue and asked, “Fedor? What are you doing here? Where's Dusky?”
“Meow,” replied Fedor, licking his paws, showing no interest.
For seven years, Violetta and Dusky had a somewhat close relationship. When she arrived at the mansion, Dusky was already five years old, and the first thing he said about her was, “Who’s that beautiful lady?” From then on, Dusky clung to her, and she became his caretaker. Sometimes, Dusky could get on her nerves with his pranks. When he outdid himself, Violetta would retaliate with her own pranks, but their banter always ended in a comedic and peaceful way.
The head maid, Melena, on the other hand, had a stricter side. She wasn't fond of games and tricks and would always scold Violetta for being too lenient with Dusky. As a result, both of them often got into trouble. Violetta would simply wink at Dusky when the situation arose and mostly took the brunt of Melena’s punishment.
Violetta brushed her hair and fixed her clothes, huffing and puffing, then said, “I need some water.” Her voice was drained of strength as she staggered back into the mansion and pondered, Did I already check the kitchen?
After a while, Dusky awoke from unconsciousness. The effects of the fog’s delirium had left him drenched in sweat and as pale as a turnip. He tried to push himself up, but his legs buckled beneath him.
“Ouch!” he exclaimed, pressing his hands to his head and gritting his teeth in pain as his face jerked.
The room swirled around him. His eyes were unfocused and glazed. He squinted into the darkness, where shapes dissolved into a murky swirl, their outlines indistinct and shifting. He extended his arms as his legs swayed with each step and muttered, “Where am I?”
Then he heard a voice reverberating inside the darkness. “Duuuuuuuskyyyyyy aaaaaaare yooooou heeeeeere?” it said, chill like ice against his skin.
“Ah!” he gasped as he turned and flailed his arms.
“Dusky?” said the voice.
He spun around and gasped, “Who’s there?”
Standing a few feet away, Dusky saw through his hazy vision a white figure amidst the shadows and screamed, “A ghost!” His voice cracked, louder than he intended, as he fell to his knees.
The figure rushed toward him and called out, “Dusky, it’s me! What’s wrong with you?”
“No! Don’t come any closer!” yelled Dusky.
The figure’s gaze locked onto him as he curled up, burying his head between his legs. He closed his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest. Then he felt the figure’s arms wrapping around him as it said, “Dusky? Hey, it’s me, Violetta. Hey!” Its voice cracked with desperation. “Are you okay? Hey!”
Despite the darkness, the figure became recognizable as he felt a familiar warmth and scent. Dusky looked up, squeezing his eyes with his hands and said, “Violetta?” He realized that the figure was his maid, her arms wrapped around him as she sat beside him in her nightgown.
“Yes! It’s me! Oh dear, what happened to you?” she gasped, her voice tinged with worry and concern.
Violetta’s breath hitched as she held Dusky tight, her eyes scanning him as he trembled in her arms. His pitiful state stirred sympathy within her. Her earlier frustrations melted away, replaced by deep concern. She gently brushed Dusky’s hair with her fingers and said, “I’m sorry,” her voice softening. “I didn’t mean to frighten you,” she added, placing her hands on his cheeks. Her touch was soothing, making Dusky relax and feel safe.
“Violetta!” cried Dusky, his voice hoarse, as tears fell down his cheeks.
Violetta looked up and wondered, Why does he sound like he has seen a real ghost? She then glanced back at him, her brows knitting together, and said, “Dusky, what happened? Where were you this evening? And why are you here in the kitchen alone in the dark?”
“Huh? The kitchen? What are you talking about?” replied Dusky.
Violetta stood up and said, “Yes, the kitchen.”
With a confident flick of her wrist, she murmured an incantation under her breath, “Lux magicae,” and a light erupted from her fingertips, spreading like liquid gold across the room. The kitchen’s features emerged from the darkness as the glow touched the countertops, revealing polished surfaces and gleaming utensils. The once-muted colors of the room now sparkled with renewed vibrancy, illuminating the space with an ethereal, magical radiance.
Dusky stared around the room and pondered, “The kitchen? Why am I here?”
He realized only now that he wasn’t in the same room anymore. He had been certain he was in the darkened room all this time, but the bright lights and familiar smells of the kitchen now seemed almost surreal to him.
Violetta then took Dusky's hand and exclaimed, “Ah! Your hand, Dusky, you’re hurt!” She skedaddled toward the first aid kit drawer, her light still illuminating the kitchen. Moving to the sink, she turned on the faucet, and water cascaded into a bowl she had set on the counter. The hum of the flowing water mingled with the glow, creating a serene and inviting atmosphere. She lifted the bowl and hurried over to Dusky and said, “Here, Dusky, let me fix you up.”
As Violetta scrambled around, Dusky was lost in his thoughts as he pondered, How did I end up here? I have no memory of going to the kitchen. What happened to me?
He tried to piece together the moments leading up to his sudden shift in location, but it all felt disjointed and confusing.
“Right, the fog!” Dusky jolted upright, yelling.
Startled, Violetta cleared her throat, “Ahem!”
“Ah!” he gasped, his thoughts interrupted, pulling him back to reality.
Violetta furrowed her brows and waved her hand around the kitchen, and asked, “Fog? What fog? There’s no fog here, Dusky,” she pressed the matter further as she asked, “So, what are you doing here? Were you hungry? Do you want me to cook something for you?”
Dusky fidgeted with the hem of his robe, twisting the fabric with his fingers, and replied, “No, I was just getting myself some milk.”
Violetta crossed her arms and scolded, “Dusky, enough! I know you’re lying! Where did you go this evening? I’ve been searching everywhere for you—your room, the library, the garden; I couldn’t find you. Don’t tell me it took you hours to get some milk! Look at you; you’ve hurt yourself!”
Dusky glanced back and forth, struggling to meet her gaze, and replied, “You see, I was playing with Fedor.”
'Hmm? Fedor?' pondered Violetta, her brows furrowed as she leaned closer, her face inches from his, and asked, "What? You expect me to believe that? What kind of game did you play? Hide and seek?" Placing her hands on her hips, she added, "Is everything alright, Dusky? You don’t look so good."
“Um...” Dusky fumbled as he shifted from foot to foot, and replied, “We were just playing, and then he suddenly disappeared. I was looking all over for him."
“Ha...” Violetta sighed, she rolled her eyes as she placed a hand on Dusky’s shoulder, squeezing it, and suggested, “Come, let’s go look for Fedor together,” her words measured as she added “If something is troubling you, we’ll figure it out.”
“Nah...” Dusky shook his head, and said “It’s okay, Violetta. I appreciate your concern. I’m sure Fedor is fine. Don’t worry.”
"Hmm..." Violetta’s gaze lingered on him. She caressed his hair with her fingers, her expression softening as she nodded. "Alright, I’ll believe you for now, Dusky. Just remember, I’m here for you, okay? But don’t disappear on me like that again, understood?" Violetta’s voice remained steady, though it carried a slight tremor as she looked at him, thinking, I know you’re hiding something from me, Dusky. It’s okay; I won’t pry anymore.
“Okay,” Dusky nodded in response, and replied, “I’m sorry for worrying you, Violetta.”
“It’s okay. Well, let’s get you back to bed,” said Violetta, offering her hand after putting the bowl in the sink and returning the kit to the drawer. Her shoulders relaxed, the rigid lines on her face eased, and a smile touched her lips as she teased, “It’s not safe to be wandering around at this hour. You never know—the Boogeyman might get you.”
As they headed toward the bedroom hand in hand, Dusky felt a mixture of relief and lingering curiosity about the book and the events that had occurred. His mind raced with questions about how he had ended up in the kitchen when he was sure he had been in the dark room just moments ago.
The uncertainty gnawed at Dusky. His hand twitched, and without a second thought, he reached into his robe’s pocket to ensure the mysterious book was still there. His fingers brushed against the familiar, rough leather cover, and he let out a quiet sigh. “Ha...”
The book was real, solid, and very much with him. Despite everything, its presence offered a small measure of comfort amidst the confusion.
As they reached Dusky’s room, Violetta moved with practiced ease, smoothing the blankets around him. Her touch remained gentle, and her smile was warm as she leaned closer and said, “Good night, Dusky,” her voice was soft and soothing. “Sleep tight.”
Dusky snuggled into his bed, placing the book on the table beside him. The warmth of the covers and Violetta’s presence wrapped him in a comforting embrace, but her concern reminded him of the strange, unsettling events he couldn’t explain.
As he settled in, the presence of the mysterious book was a constant reminder of the night’s eerie happenings. His mind raced with questions, the whispers still echoing in his ears.
Violetta stifled a yawn, her eyes drooping. Each step was slow but deliberate as she left Dusky’s bedroom.
As Dusky drifted into sleep, the book trembled, emitting a faint glow...