‘We come from Oblivion.’
Lain whirled around trying to find the source of the voice.
‘We come from Oblivion.’
The streets were full of people, but no one was paying a single shred of attention to him. Could no one else hear the voice? Panic began to rise in his chest.
“Watch where you’re going!” a businessman in a suit said as they bumped into his shoulder and continued on without actually registering his existence. Lain was just an obstacle—an inconvenience in their narrow world. Somehow this helped calm him down.
The voice didn’t return. Perhaps he was imagining things… It had been a stressful couple of weeks. Lain continued walking. The din of chattering, laughing, and assorted acoustics of vehicles passing by were the only sounds resonating nearby.
The humming city of Kinden was the biggest in the region, and for good reason. It had a central location within the empire that made it a mecca for trade, and with a huge port to the east, there wasn’t anything you couldn’t find here.
The city’s skyline was filled with crystalline skyscrapers of varying shapes and sizes. A variety of of magic and static Billboards sat perched above buildings, and a plethora of airships dottied the skies. Despite the ridiculous population, it was still a sight to behold.
His pocket started vibrating, and he pulled out his phone.
“Hello?”
“What are you doing? Are you going to be on time?”
“Yes, mother,” he sighed. “I’m just seeing the sights. You know I haven’t been here since Dad’s funeral. It’s been years.”
“Just be careful,” she replied worriedly. “Kinden isn’t the safest place.”
He took an unconscious look around. “I’m aware, I’m keeping an eye out for shifty characters.” He passed a small store blasting music, with an energetic employee out front handing out flyers, whom he readily ignored. “And to answer your other question, yes, I will be on time. It’s a meeting over dinner, it’s just a formality at this point.”
“It’s still a very important meeting, Lain!” his mother exclaimed. “This could be huge for your uncle’s business. If we can make a good connection in the city, then the business here in the village will help our local economy, and it could lead to some viable inroads with the other nearby villages.”
“I promise, I understand. I’m just trying to enjoy the trip a little is all.”
“Alright, just please be safe, and be on time!”
“Of course. Thanks for checking in on me.”
“I love you.”
“Love you too, Mom,” and the line disconnected. He couldn’t hold it against her for being protective. After the loss of his father, she’d had to step up and take on both roles of mother and father, even with his uncle and his family helping us out. He knew the possibility of loss still ached at her bones, and he often wondered if she’d be able to cope if she lost him or his sister.
After another moment he turned off the main street and made his way down a comfortably narrow walkway lined with storefronts and small restaurants. Folks sat outside under umbrellas enjoying their drinks and food. The colorful aromas of each restaurant fought over each other in a battle of delicious fragrance.
He’d done a little research before my trip, and there was supposed to be a nice hole-in-the-wall bookstore around the area that supposedly had an eclectic collection of antique and older books. Lain had a small penchant for things eclectic.
“There you are…” he said to himself under his breath. What stood before him was certainly eclectic, almost eccentric. Despite the modern and somewhat classic look of the surrounding storefronts, Ned’s Nook stood out like a sore thumb. The facade was painted a muted dark red, with large windows that allowed passersby to peer inside, and the storefront’s name adorned the top with gold filigree, it was almost gaudy.
A jingle rang overhead as he entered the store. He quickly took in the sights. The interior of the store was much different than he’d imagined. It was very organized, with a few bits and bobs, hobbled in here and there, far from the eclectic mess of knick-knacks he’d imagined in his head.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
“Good afternoon, young man!” A bespeckled older gentleman stood behind a counter to the far side. His white hair had receded significantly, and he wore a trim and, even, dashing waistcoat. It was as if he was living in a different era. “Come closer, young man! Let me take a look at you.”
“Uh… alright,” Lain meagered out and complied, cautiously moving toward the counter.
“Aha, I see,” the gentleman said, eyeing Lain up and down. His scrutinizing gaze certainly gave him an eccentric vibe. “Interesting,” he said and met Lain’s eyes. “Looking for something magical today?”
“Oh, I’m not a mage. My sister is the one studying the magic arts, I don’t have the affinity.”
“Is that so?” he said as if he didn’t believe it. “That’s right, I haven’t introduced myself.” He held out his hand. “I’m Ned, owner and proprietor of this nook and everything you see within.” Lain shook it. Ned pulled his hand back and analyzed it as if some sort of substance had rubbed off. “There’s something about you, young man, I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
“Really?” Lain was slightly intrigued but figured it was mostly the ramblings of an eccentric old geezer.
“Indeed,” Ned replied. “What are you looking for?”
“I like collecting antique books. They’re so much different than the writing you see today. They had a certain way with language, I find it fascinating.”
“You and I are kindred spirits in that regard, my boy,” he laughed. “What else do you like? Just antiques, or do you appreciate the unique and unexplained?”
“Of course!” Lain smiled.
“Excellent, excellent! Give me just a moment,” Ned retreated behind a door beyond the counter and appeared a moment later holding a dense stack of books. He set them down with a heavy thud. “I just got these in, and I’ve been dying to share them with someone who would appreciate them.” He spread out four different books, each with varying degrees of deterioration, except for one that looked as if it were made from stone.
“Wow,” Lain said, his eyes full of wonder. “What are they?”
“These were donated by the estate of a wealthy collector after his death. His children sold all of his other books but had been unable to sell these four tomes. Luckily they brought them here,” he gently caressed the covers. “As to what they are, I’m still investigating.”
“Incredible,” Lain observed the books with a certain sense of astonishment. May I?” Lain asked, gesturing toward the books.
“Of course, just be gentle.” Lain gently hoisted the book closest to him. This one had a sterling cover, bordered with gold, and inlay with silver. It had obviously seen better days, the edges were withered, stains dotted the front and back, and the pages were discolored, but despite its age it was in surprisingly good condition.
Lain opened the cover and chose a random page. Inside was an alphabet he recognized, but the letters weren’t in any order he could understand. “What is this text?”
“I’m still working to figure that out. It could be an ancient form of our own language, or another entirely. It wouldn’t be completely surprising for another culture to have adapted our alphabet to their own language.” Lained nodded.
“What about that one?” Lain asked, gesturing toward the book that resembled stone, setting down the one he’d been looking at.
“Ah yes,” Ned gleamed. “This one is truly fascinating.” He hoisted the book up and opened it to a page to show to Lain. “The alphabet in this book seems to be runic.” Lain leaned forward to get a closer look. The covers seemed dense, but the pages were unique. He was so used to seeing traditional paper, even in the different hues it was normally made in, but the pages in this book looked more organic like an unrefined version of what paper would become. The runes were long and narrow. Each swoop had a unique appendage, each line affixed at a different place. He’d never seen anything like it. “I haven’t been able to define any of the letters, or where this book comes from,” Ned conceded.
“Should it go to a museum? Or maybe a school for research?” Lain asked sincerely.
“Oh, indeed,” Need nodded. “But I can’t help myself. To be one of the first to study these texts… it’s remarkable. I’m learning what I can from them, and I intend to donate them to the university here in Kinden.”
“I’d probably do the same, honestly,” Lain chuckled.
“But look at this,” Ned closed the book and flipped to the back cover. “The covers of this book seem to be made of a hard material, like obsidian.. Or chitin. It’s baffling. But the back cover here seems to have some sort of ghastly stone embedded into it. And I mean ghastly in the most positive way.” Lain looked closely at the stone inlaid on the back cover. It was a deep, dark purple, almost black. Dots of gold seemed to flit around its inside, and it seemed to consume light.
‘We come from Oblivion.’
“That’s the front cover,” Lain said morosely.
“What do you mean?”
“The stone is on the front cover.”
“You mean they read from right to left?” Ned seemed to observe the book with a newfound appreciation. “How do you know?”
‘We come from Oblivion.’
“I’m–I’m not sure. It just… suddenly makes sense to me.” Lain’s head suddenly felt fuzzy, like he’d had too much to drink. Something inside of him urged him toward the book. As though the voices he wasn’t sure he was hearing were coming from the book, were coming from within the stone. “May I touch it…?”
“Uh, sure,” Ned said handing the book to Lain.
‘We come from Oblivion.’
Lain gazed at the stone.
‘We come from Oblivion.’
The voice was growing like a cacophony in his head.
‘We come from Oblivion.’
Lain touched the stone. Everything went black.