48 Adrift In Fog
Rowan flipped the page over, and selected a pencil, his hand moved to the fourth pencil by itself. Rowan was too distracted to notice.
Not letting his mind dictate his actions. Rowan began to draw. His movement was at first sharp and jerky–He was not used to his new strength. It took a brief moment to stabilize, however, and his pencil began to flow over the pages.
The first sketch he made was of the Dark Priest Purdue, he was a peaceful man who surprised Rowan by the depth of his convictions, he still recalled the shouts of the priest as he battled, filled with righteous fury and sorrow, plus he was a Legendary Dominator.
He had clearly hidden himself deeply and Rowan had never recalled before now the priest ever using any Dominator powers, that was incredible because the allure of using your power was intense, and it took a decisive mind to place aside his power and toil as a mortal for decades.
The picture Rowan drew was of the priest shooting dark lightning from his fingertips, incinerating a couple of Abominations, on his face his expression could be interpreted as either laughter or sorrow, it was a unique expression that Rowan stopped and accessed for a while.
He did not remember seeing such a scene, but he guessed that his Spatial sight reveals so much information to his mind that it was impossible for the present him to interpret them and that most of them were buried in his subconscious and only acts like this could dredge that swampy depth and unearthed hidden stories he might have missed.
As if with a mind of his own, his hand wrote below the sketch.
"𝘔𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘴… 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘦"
This was… Totally normal. How much weirder can it become? Is my subconscious telling me I have a hidden kink for old men shooting lightning from their fingertips?
Or a much better interpretation was that these were the memory of the priest itself, and perhaps in the heat of battle, his sight was able to capture some of his emotion.
He was not convinced that this was too much of a stretch, for the aura field around people, he had come to find out, was colored by the emotions they were feeling at that time. If his sight could 𝘴𝘦𝘦 emotions, it might be able to also pick up surface thoughts too.
Rowan chose to believe this version because he hardly understood a fraction of what his Spatial sight showed him, and he would prefer not to have such a unusual pursuit, anytime now or in the future.
Rowan flipped the page.
He selected another pencil and began to draw. The next person emerging on the page was Captain Titus. He had one arm, and his blade was swinging with great speed that he left lines of gore hanging in the air.
Countless heads were by his feet, yet his countenance was eerily calm, as if he was born to such slaughter, and the glint in his eyes resembled amusement.
Again, his hand unbidden began to write,
"𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳. 𝘛𝘰 𝘥𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦."
"...."
He sighed and turns the page, the previous two pictures took less than thirty seconds each, his Agility Stat, made his hand fly over the page, this one took two minutes, and Rowan could see why.
It was a dense picture with at least a hundred people inside, they were of all the people rescued in the town, tied around their necks were a noose, the rope from the noose extended and pierced through the clouds, and their faces had no flesh, only white bones.
In the skies above, a massive lidless eye peered down.
"𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦… 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘮 𝘐?"
Rowan could not help but shiver. He felt his Primordial Record react, but ignored it for the moment. His mind was strangely more relaxed, as if he had taken a considerable weight off his chest.
He had an intuition that these sketches were significant, his mind began juggling possibilities about the reasons for this intuition of his before he put an end to that. He was aware of his time constraints, and he allowed himself to draw the last sketch before leaving for the world with the Red moon.
It was of Maeve.
∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶××××××××××
Maeve, seeing her Master sitting on the floor, felt unease for he did not deserve anything that was happening to him, although she knew that the paths of the powerful were not straight, and they would face more adversities than normal, she still felt a sense of sorrow.
She had seen no indication of battle shock from his disposition, but different individuals handled traumatic situations differently, seeing him with his sketchbook and his pencils' collection made her sigh in relief, he was holding himself better than she would have ever imagined.
She carefully arranged the clothes she prepared for him, as a Dominator of great power, normal clothes would simply not be good enough, he would have to return to the family, for specially crafted clothes and armor.
The only thing she could do presently was to reduce the burden on her master. She knew he loved his people, so she should make sure that the worry of his, for their welfare, was properly seen to.
Alongside keeping her eyes out for traitors that would surely dwell within, she had plans for certain traps to lure them out, but they need careful plans and execution. She would not worry her master about that aspect, she would only bring their heads to him.
She had used her Legendary Ability—Space Lock, more than what was recommended. Her head was pounding, and she may have sprained her muscles in her back, for even walking brought a flash of pain, though it was impossible to determine that looking at her demeanor.
Thankfully, she was at the Peak of the Legendary state, and in a few more hours she would have recovered enough to partake in another battle. Space Lock did not require much consumption of her Spirit, and she would have enough utility from her Legendary Ability soon.
She carefully closed the laboratory doors behind her and proceeded to the first floor, as a precaution, she would be placing anchors on all the heavy weapons in the manor, and the doors of the halls where most of the people stayed, if there were any movements from any of these, she would be made aware.
" Apologies ma'am. There has been a series of development the captain would like to forward to you." The posh voice of the butler entered Maeve ears.
"Oh..... OK. In that instance, I would like for you to present the plans for the shelter and feeding arrangements of every man, woman and child and place them in my hands within the hour. You can use every resource available to you."
"Um… Ma'am. I would recommend you speak to the captain first before any further arrangements are made." The clear voice of the butler had a hint of despondency in the tone.
At this moment, Maeve looked at the butler and saw his expression, his face was pale, and his eyes were shifty. Sweat beads his forehead, yet he still retained his attitude of professionalism.
He was a short man, who was also whip thin. His lips were two lines of dash and his eyes entered his skull. His balding head still retained the dark hair of his youth, or maybe he was just used to dyeing it. Despite his appearance, the butler was a gentle soul.
Maeve nodded and hurried down the stairs, getting to the hallway below. It was now empty but for one Guardsman. This one was a woman, but Maeve did not know her name. Not because of any inherent bias, but because except a Guardsman broke into the legendary state. They would remain Nameless. Most of them never got to have a name.
"The Captain is at the gardens outside." The Guardsman handed her a spyglass. "You would need this also."
"Were the Abominations mounting another attack?" Maeve frowned and in long strides arrived outside, she spotted the Captain with a spyglass on his face.
Maeve did not bother calling out to him. It was immediately clear why she was summoned.
Maeve stood for a while in shock and hurried back to report to Rowan.
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