“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.
“And yet, even after the loss of your father, the loss of everyone, through all that time…! we've found nothing, NOTHING!” Hissed Grandpa, rising from his gold plated red velvet armchair, his voice gradually raising until he went quiet, collapsing hopelessly, “Not even when we are the only ones left, almost as if there was nothing to be found.” He spoke almost inaudibly, silently sobbing
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Grandpa reached into the inner pocket of his gilded emblazoned overcoat, and pulled out a worn golden book with with a latch that had a strange symbol, and the words
“Take this.” Spoke Grandpa in a weak raspy voice, before rising slowly and walking with the help of his golden dragon cane towards the liquor cabinet, and taking a few shots of their strongest whiskey, “It's the records of our family, from our progenitor all the way to you, look and see what we once were, what we lost, what we can become once again with the Antiquated Key!” Grandpa said in a slightly crazed drunken voice, “What we WILL become again!” Cackling with more than tipsy visions of grandeur
Orrous, who was more curious than confused chose to open the book. Cutting himself on it somehow before undoing the latch, but what was found within? It was more than just records, it was everything, everything about their family from start to present. A well kept record of the past, as if it was going to fade away. The fears of madmen never come to fruition, the hopes of the now deceased never once heard, and the wants of the living yet to be fulfilled, all in one place, all in hopes of returning to grace. A delusion not too soon to be dispelled it would seem, as achieving such a thing would be nigh impossible to anyone of the current family, with only two known members left of the hundreds that once were.
Orrous pondered for a while upon why his Grandfather had given him this, and after a while, he came to one possible conclusion… The torch had been passed. As his Grandfather had shown Orrous his ambitions, his hopes, his dreams, no matter how warped from their original shape. Orrous’s grandfather wanted but one thing: to return to the glory that once was.
But a dream for a better future is sadly just that, a dream. And his dream of grandeur, unfortunately, was shattered by the stress of his ambitions, warped by the wishes of many, and torn by the unfair duty hoisted upon his once broad shoulders, causing his descent into fragility of both body and mind.
The one who was once praised as the strongest, has fallen just that much more... All before finding the man that stole hope.