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@ariella-newheart   AAAAAAAAA *starts crying*   I… *sniffs* I made Caedon… I MADE HIM CRYYY WAAAAAAA I’M SORRYYYY AAAA *hiccups in-between sobs
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Ok so actually that did make me tear up lol. You displayed Caedon’s emotion very well and it rubbed off on me 😀

Heeeyyyyy guys look I’m actually gonna write something here for once 😀

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When Lucas woke up, he was sitting at his desk, holding his quill pen. He still had the taste of coffee in his mouth. His desk clock said 2:34. The same time it was the last time he looked at it. He looked out the window. His neighbor was just coming around the bend in the street, carrying the same bags of groceries she was last time Lucas looked out.

Did… Did I just defy time? That wasn’t a dream… But was it real?

Lucas suddenly had a thought, and reached into his pocket. His fingers brushed a piece of paper. Hardly daring to hope, he unfolded it. It was a page of notes he had written down after reading one of the books in the castle’s library.

It was… real.

He looked around his room again. It suddenly seemed drab compared to the few rooms he’d seen in the castle. All the books on his shelves that he’d spent so long collecting and dusting and arranging to perfection seemed like nothing compared to the library he’d spent barely four hours in. Lucas’ vision started to blur as tears welled up. He made no effort to blink them back.

Caedon is there, still. Alone. Well, he has Thesues. And Runawin. And Vladlena. 

He shuddered at the memory of the latter. He really didn’t trust her. And Runawin was a talking wolf, for Scotland’s sake!

I have to get back. I have to. 

Lucas racked his brain, trying to think what he’d been doing when he was… teleported? Was that the right word to use?

Oh yes. Practicing calligraphy.

He stood and stuffed the paper with his notes back in his pocket. Striding over to his other desk, he dug through the drawers until he found his revolver. He checked to make sure it was loaded, and put it in his coat pocket.

Hopefully I won’t need it. But just in case. I don’t even know if I can get back. What if I can’t?

Why would you be able to? his mind argued. You can’t even explain how and why it happened in the first place. What makes you think you can make it happen?

Shut up. All I can do is try.

Lucas swept his gaze around the room again. Was there anything else he might need? A watch would be nice. But he didn’t own a watch. Never had. He shook his head and went back to sit down. He took a deep breath and picked up his pen again, and began copying the sentence he was practicing. Soon, the methodical scratching of the pen soothed his mind, and he began to feel drowsy. Gladly accepting a nap, Lucas set his pen down and closed his eyes.

***

Lucas was startled awake by a sudden draft of cold air. He snapped his eyes open, for a moment wondering where he was. He was lying on the floor of a dark room. There was no light, and he could see nothing. His other senses quickly kicked in. The floor was stone, and it was slightly damp. The draft of air came from behind him, and he could hear wind from behind a wall. Possibly through a window.

Is this the castle again? It must be. But this isn’t the main hall.

Lucas got to his feet and dug through his pockets until he found his matchbook. He struck a match, and then immediately snuffed it out. It didn’t provide enough light to even see his arm. He groped around until he came to a wall, then searched along it for a torch or candle or anything that might possibly tell him what kind of room this was. He followed the wall around the perimeter of the room without finding a doorway, or a window, or anything. From counting his steps, the room was about ten paces by fifteen paces. He started at a corner and walked halfway along the wall, then turned to cut straight across the room to the other wall. Nothing was in his path. He did this several more times at different spots along the wall. There was nothing in the room.

Then where was the draft coming from? Was that just my imagination?

Lucas frowned, and sat down along a wall. His hand wandered to his revolver, checking to make sure he still had it. He did, and found comfort in that.

If this is the castle… What if I ask it for a candle?

Lucas thought that was a fairly reasonable thing to ask for, instead of asking to be teleported directly to the others. If they were even still here.

“May I please have a candle?” he asked to the empty room.

There was no answer, and no candle appeared. Lucas began to worry now that maybe this was a different place altogether, or that he was dreaming. His hand went to his gun again, and thought,

You can never die in your dreams. What if I shot myself and- Stop it, Lucas! What are you thinking? If you aren’t dreaming, you’ll die.

He shook his head to clear it, then stood. It was cold here, even with his coat. He paced the perimeter again and again, hands stuffed in his pockets, neck scrunched down into his scarf. Finally, he had walked around the room enough times to know exactly where that crack in the stones was, and the loose stone was right there. Careful not to trip on it.

Lucas sighed, and sat down. No use wearing himself out. The draft must have been his imagination, because it and the wind he heard were both gone. Finally, as Lucas was just wishing he was back at his house, he heard something being dragged across stone. It was in the room with him, on the opposite wall, fifteen paces away. Lucas put his hand into his pocket and drew out his revolver. His finger hovered, just barely not touching the trigger. But he could pull it in a heartbeat. He stood quietly, hardly breathing. The noise stopped, and he could hear breathing. It wasn’t loud, just there. Or was that his own breathing? Lucas held his breath to make sure. No, he could still hear it. His finger twitched, wanting to feel the metal of the trigger, but Lucas held it back.

Then. Nothing. He couldn’t hear the breathing any more, and the dragging hadn’t started again. Lucas began to wonder if he was going crazy. He felt behind him, making sure the wall was still there. It was, and he leaned against it. Not being able to see was driving him nearly insane now, not being able to tell if someone, or something, else was in the room with him. After a few minutes of silence, he put his gun back in his pocket. Then drew it back out. Holding it gave him comfort. He wanted to say something; break the silence, but he didn’t. If there was something still in the room, one blunder could mean disaster. Lucas was still for a moment more, then sat back down quietly. He knew how far away the corners were from him, if he needed to have protection from two sides.

Lucas was as bored as he could be. He still didn’t want to make a sound, so he couldn’t sing. And he couldn’t strike a match, either. It wouldn’t help him see, and it would just give away his position to anything in the room. He recited a couple poems in his head, and tried to list all the titles of the books on his shelves from memory. He gave up on that eventually. Finally, he heard another sound. From the middle of the wall on his left, at a right angle from him. About six paces away. Lucas caressed the trigger with his finger, and his ears and eyes strained in the darkness. It was something being dragged across the floor. And breathing. It sounded human, and Lucas couldn’t decide if it was comforting or not. He would do most anything for light right now. Finally, he had to take a risk. He needed to say something. If whoever this was ran into him in the dark, he had a feeling it wouldn’t be good. But he also didn’t like being so close to the… person. Let’s call it a person. Lucas knew he couldn’t walk quietly to the other side of the room, so he had to take his chances. He took a deep, quiet breath and stood. His finger was anticipating the call from his brain that would tell it to pull the trigger.

“Who goes there?” he called.

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ooOOH cliffhanger 😛