-Note: I have nothing better to do with my time so I wrote this, If anyone shows any interest, I'll refine it, and improve it, comment if so. “Have I told you about the Antiquated Key, Boy?” Asked Grandpa quietly, warming his frail hands by the fireplace “The Antiquated Key?” Questioned Orrous, mesmerized by the dancing flame “Yes, it was where all our troubles began. An heirloom of ages past, its true origins unknown, much like its location. It's legend is known to all; the key of the broken lock, remaining as if to spite those that had scorned it, a smoldering memory of times past, opportunities once fated, a symbol of what was lost to our world. But even the world has yet to regard its absence.” Spoke Grandpa in a soft voice, as if remembering something important. “What does it do though, Grandpa? And why didn't we just look for it?" Replied Orrous with a confused whisper “Naïve boy, you would never know what you've never experienced. That which has hidden by the powerful cannot be easily found, unless by the very hands that hid it.” Stated Grandpa with a solemn chuckle “That still doesn't tell me what the Antiquated Key does though.” Replied Orrous with a perplexed expression “What it does, my dear boy? Nobody knows what does, not even I, the eldest. All that is known is that it was a powerful artifact vital to our survival, and that it's needed to find hope once again, and as such, it is hope. Without it, we would surely perish, just as we have for many generations.” Grandpa said slowly, with a look of guilty regret upon his dull sunken eyes, "My very own father was the one who stole hope, making it my responsibility to find hope once again... (More in chapter 1. Advent of Familial Insanity)