The Shadow Weaver

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Fantasy Realm

Chapter 2 (v.1) - Enzo Savege

Submitted: March 28, 2018

Reads: 153

Comments: 2

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Submitted: March 28, 2018

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The guards came for me again. This time, they didn’t even try to hide it.

”You know, you’re getting executed tomorrow, shadow weaver.”

An hour went by... maybe two. The strange thing is that I wanted the day to go by. Execution would be much better then all this shit. I walked to the corner of my cell and picked up a piece of chalk, the only other thing they left me with. I drew whatever the heck I wanted to draw. My family, the creature that killed them. What I remember I last looked like. I was a fit, average boy. I was in grade 8 when I got arrested. Eventually I drew my sister. What I thought she would look like right now. Then I fell asleep, tears in my eyes. 

The first thing I remember waking up to was the screech of the door against the wall of my cell. I didn’t bother to get up. They would have to drag me if they wanted me to move. After a short while of tugging, it came to that. They both grabbed my wrists and hauled me away from my safe little corner. I took one last glance at my drawings. My father. Mom. Sister. “Sorry,” I whispered.

They dragged me onto a stage of some sort. Then I heard someone talking. 

“This is not an execution for fun. This is what happens to people who murder and disobey the laws.” 

Two other men hoisted me up and tied me to the pole they set. Underneath my feet, I could feel wood and oil. So this is a burning, huh. 

A dark, large cloud drifted over the stage, covering it in shadow. 

The prison master struck a match and lifted it to the crowd as if taunting them. He turned to me and said, "Die, shadow weaver." and chucked the match. The match was falling fast and then it stopped, frozen in mid-air. There was a shadow holding it. It's not mine, I thought to myself. I didn't feel any weird pull that I felt when I... killed my family. 

I could see a path from the match to somewhere in the crowd. It was a shadow, but not a normal one. I could feel a pull from it, but not of my own. It had a feminine charm to it. Then a figure walked out of the crowds. The figure wore a cloak and it's face was shadowed by it. It walked up, extended it's hand to the match and crushed it. It then walked over to me and untied the ropes. I dropped down, and instantly slumped over. The figure caught me and helped me stand. 

As she walked away, the people blocked her path. The prison guard yelled at her. "Where do you think you're going. Bring the boy back and you won't face death."

I looked to the side and saw the edge of it's face. It was a her. She had shimmering, silver locks that dangled down her cloak, almost to her waist. She turned to the prison guard and said, "And what punishement will I get if I do return the boy?"

No answer.

"You'll just lock me up until you forget I'm even there. So, if I say no, what will you do?"

"We'll have to take him by force," the prison master said, pushing aside the guard.

She tilted her head up to the prison master, exposing her face. "Take your best shot," she said with a smirk. and walked away trudging through the crowd. 

 

 


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