Waking up in a cold sweat, Goddard felt his heart beating deeply into his chest.
The vivid nightmare was a recurring plague of the young boy's mind, about the days of war and chaos. The memories of the demons tearing people limb from limb was as destructive to the psyche as a broadsword. Sitting up in bed, Goddard let his breathing calm down before giving his temples a massage.
Without warning, Goddard punched upwards, creating a powerful burst of air which pushed outwards towards the ceiling. A moment passed, then a body fell from the ceiling and landed softly on all fours. Dressed in all black, a mysterious man eyed Goddard as the boy remained in his bed.
"What was your dream about?" asked the man in black before leaping at Goddard.
"Horrible monsters," Goddard answered cooly as he kicked up the blankets to blind his attacker. "They were killing people everywhere, and I just watched, too scared to do anything."
"You looked pretty active to me," the attacker mentioned, stepping around the blanket to retain line of sight. Goddard had disappeared, no trace of him until the assassin looked up. Goddard had jumped, leaping over the blanket and landing on the path to the door of his bedroom.
The assassin grabbed the blanket, pulling on it while rapidly swirling it into a single rope. Goddard bounced a little on his landing, giving the black clad figure enough time to whip the blanket out. The end caught Goddard around the ankle, pulling him back so that he was off balance. With a sweeping kick, the assassin followed quickly for a hard blow to the stomach.
Goddard felt his gut fill his ribs for a moment, but then the boy fell to the ground and flopped on his side.
There was a coughing fit, then the black clad figure opened the cloth around his face.
"You're still rough in the mornings," Paxton stated, bending to his brother's side. "Still, the training has really paid off. If you get any better, I'm going to have to stop holding back."
"Please don't," Goddard hissed, not wanting his brother to get any more extreme than he already was.
Looking at the huge form of Paxton Byron, Goddard had to wonder how such a big person was so agile. Even for an eight year old, Paxton looked like he was supposed to be a young adult in the draft. Long hours spent exercising constantly had turned a regular boy into a muscle-bound monster of a child.
Of course, Goddard had seen this coming. Paxton was a musclehead that could bust down a block wall with a single punch, without using the same warrior magic that Goddard utilized. Paxton had always been abnormally focused on training, becoming one of the tallest, fittest humans alive. Even when he was in magic training, Paxton utilized his time to work out while he learned. It got to the point where Paxton could hold himself horizontally on a pole using a single arm.
But Paxton was never a fighter. He was chiefly a healer, and prefered pascifism. The mental image of his brother from memories was clashing with the thug-ish brute that had been assaulting him for the last four years.
In Goddard's room, Paxton knelt down to his brother and put a hand on the hurting boy's stomach. There was a sensation of warmth around the area, then the pain was miraculously gone.
"White magic sure is useful," Goddard mentioned, then he suddenly shut his trap.
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There was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as Paxton asked:
"What's white magic?"
"It's what I call your magic," Goddard tried to play it off as something he came up with.
"Hm," Paxton hummed, looking at his brother suspiscously. "I like it. White magic. WHITE Magic. White MAGIC... It has a ring to it."
Goddard sighed, breathing heavily that he could get away with such a mistake. It wouldn't be for another three years that the two brothers learn what kind of magic they have, and he didn't want to change too many things. Knowing the future was a greater burden than he had first thought. Already some of his memories from his childhood hadn't come true.
There was one time when a maid was killed by a beast that got onto the grounds, but Paxton somehow caught the animal before it could take her life.
Even more than that, Paxton had never come after Goddard as much as he was now.
Appearing in the morning, attacking at random times, even brandishing actual knives and daggers with sharp edges. Goddard was on his toes by default from the war, but Paxton was pushing the fear into paranoia. Every corner, every hiding place, and every dark shadow would make Goddard as cautious as a rabbit huffing Cryspo, a narcotic powder made from crushing magic crystals.
After the morning attack, both of the boys showered in two seperate baths.
Paxton was amazed every time at the ingenuity of this magical world. Every amenity in the house was done through proper application of magic. The water was heated though an enchanted tub using a fire enchantment, it was propelled by force magic, and the shower head had a precise cooling enchantment on it so the water wasn't scolding when it came through. Even though candles were still cheaper than the magic light bulbs, magic technology was fairly advanced.
Washing himself down in the cool shower, Paxton thought about Goddard's ability.
There was no doubt he was using magic, but there was a certain finesse to it that made Paxton uneasy.
It was almost as if he was being taught how to use magic, perhaps while Paxton was in one of his many lessons.
Whoever it was, they weren't being paid for it through Lord Byron, which means there was payment of another kind.
Although it was all speculation, it didn't make Paxton feel any better about his brother's trained magic skills.
Paxton's mind shifted to another unsettling thought, there was a slight tingling in his stomach whenever he went deep in the forest. It would get stronger, then weaker, then stronger depending on where Paxton was. One day, when he had bothered to bring a map with him, Paxton marked the locations and the intensity of the feelings. He happened to notice that the marked locations made a semi-circle around one of the mountains that marked the border of his future land.
There was something there, something that was giving Paxton a reaction. When he had brought the house butler, and even his brother, neither of them were able to feel the same sensations. This all lead Paxton to believe that it wasn't a normal reaction or one sparked by magic, which left the answer to his memories.
He would need to search it when he had the time, but only when he was properly equipped. Whatever it was, the things in the mountain were dangerous; he had been told a thousand times to stay away.
But the more he thought about it, the more Paxton considered it a possible lead on his reincarnation.
Looking at the shower drain, the assassin inside of him knew that it was better to know the danger than to let it suprise you.
However, there was another train of thought that opposed this one, a line of thinking that involved something the boy had rarely considered before.
'What if I don't come back? My mother will lose a son, my father will lose an heir, and Goddard... he will be scarred for life. Can I risk that?'
For the first time, Paxton knew fear like never before.
'Maybe Goddard will help me. He's almost as strong as me, and if it comes down to a fight, having two fighters will be incredibly advantageous. But what if something happens? No, there is no way in hell I'm going to risk Goddard over a silly feeling. I don't care if I never find out what that feeling is, I won't drag him into my problems.'
On the other side of the house, Goddard was taking his time relaxing in a bath. As he enjoyed the most of his liesure time, his mind drifted to thoughts of the thing in the forest.
'When Paxton showed me that feeling, I almost wet myself,' he thought with a smile.
'The purity of that magic was godly, and sensing it from so far away means whatever it belongs to is immensely powerful. It's a good thing Paxton didn't notice it, otherwise I'd have to make up a good reason why it was dangerous!'