Guardians: The Sacred Scrolls by Nick Venom (ready to read books txt) 📕

Year 138

“The wall needs to be five more feet higher.” A man in a puffy noble attire shouted. He directed his words towards a crew of workers. They nodded, continuing to build a large black fortress. Mages pointed their wands at the walls, sticking magical and physical detection spells on them.

Meanwhile, normal workers shaped bricks while others heaved bricks into place. Once in place, they were smeared with a substance resembling cement mix. They worked tirelessly, beginning the long process of building a seventy-foot high and four-hundred-foot wide fortress. It was made entirely of obsidian - an expensive material.

The noble stared in awe. With tanned skin that resembled caramel and eyes popping with a bright green color, he looked handsome. His flowing hair was well-kempt, wavy at the edges. His face was oval-shaped with blemishes at the bottom of his chin. Unfortunately for him, he had a babyface, no beard or mustaches to hide pimples and blemishes. 

He wore a slightly puffy knee-length coat with fitted shoulders that were narrow at the wrists that completely covered his high-collared white shirt. He wore breeches that covered his legs, resembling a stereotypical 1700s noble.

“How is it, honey?” A female asked him. She had dark purple eyes that shined in the overhead sunlight. Her hair matched his hair, black in color, but hers was straight instead of wavy. 

She walked towards him in long strides, her legs being hidden by her large plump dress. She wore a ball gown under the heat, a stupid decision. To add insult to injury, her stomach had a lump as large as her dress.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” She asked.

“It really is, Michelle.” He remarked, staring at the fortress. His second biggest creation would be completed in a years’ time, an impressive fate.

“Leoni, you should come inside.” She pointed at a small cabin Prince built in anticipation of winter. “You must be parched.”

“I’m okay, I want to watch the building process. The cement that we got from the otherworlders works like a charm.” He said.

“But… Still, you’re going to faint if you don’t hydrate yourself. The baby-” She rubbed her stomach. “-needs a father to take care of her.”

“Or him.” He joked.

Michelle shook her head. “It’s going to be a girl, I can sense it. I’ll have a boy next.” She teased him.

Prince chuckled. “Maybe twins? A girl and a boy!”

Michelle playfully smacked his shoulder. “Focus on taking care of one child first. Don’t go off running with your imagination. You want ten kids, try to take care of one.” She told him.

He nodded, smiling large. He embraced her, digging his face into her shoulder. “I love you, Michelle.”

She hugged him back. “I love you too... Leoni.”

***

Year 143

5 years passed, long after the Black Fortress was completed. The workers left the area of Arling, an island under the island nation of Isles of Southaven in search of new work while Leoni Prince and his wife Michelle Kravitz stayed behind. Most of the surrounding towns slowly rotted into ghost towns as racial discrimination grew and grew to the point that it became too blatant to ignore.

Even so, the couple remained, The Black Fortress was built as Prince’s magnum opus, a building that was meant to last long after his death. With his wife and magnum opus by his side and a baby on the way, everything was perfect. He had everything, surrounded by lovely nature. He had everything he wanted.

Then he lost the most important thing to him. 

***

“Dad, where’s mom? I haven’t seen her!” A small tanned girl asked. She had large eyes---one green and the other purple---and was dressed in a lovely dark blue dress. There weren’t any blemishes on her skin, perfectly pure. Her hair was straight and long, stopping at her waist even while styled in a ponytail. 

She looked up at her father, her voice being innocent and childish. Her father, Leoni Prince, noticed her and laid down his quill. He turned to face her, while sitting down on a chair, and grabbed her by under the armpits, picking her up. He laid her on top of his lap.

“How have you been sweetie?”

“Where’s mom?” She asked.

Leoni gulped. “Uh…” Chills ran down his spine. “... why are… why are you asking for her?” He asked, his voice shaking. It was almost time for the truth.

“Miss Grace told me that every family has a father, mother, and child.” She told him, messing with her fingers. She seemed nervous about asking her father the question. 

Leoni glared at the door that entered into his chambers. He could feel the presence of a shaking maid outside. I’ll fire you later.

He turned to face his adorable daughter, pinching his cheeks with a sad smile. “Well… you see… Mommy di-” He bit his tongue. His daughter looked at him with worry. “Mommy… went somewhere. She was needed… needed by some important people. She’ll return soon.”

There’s no way I could tell her. He thought. 

“Okay,” She bobbed her head, facing forward. She grabbed at the quill, but Leoni snatched it out of her grip.

“No, this is not a toy. It has ink that will hurt you. Be careful of it or it’ll get on your skin.” He told her, trying to keep her away from the quill and the jar of ink.

She bobbed her headed, jumping off his lap. She landed on the ground awkwardly, trying her best to keep her balance. She found her balance after a long struggle, turning to face Leoni.

“I only need pappa with me.” She told him, smiling with all of her teeth exposed.

Leoni smirked, a tear leaving his eye. He grabbed his sleeve and wiped the tear away as discreetly as he could. 

“Are you okay pappa?” She asked.

“Yes, Zoe. I’m okay.” He opened his arms and embraced her. “Because I have you by my side.” The two tightly hugged each other before Leoni broke apart. He stood up from his chair and crouched down to eye level of the desk he worked on, digging under it. He pulled out a large scabbard from under the desk, inspecting it. He took the scabbard off and revealed an iron sword. He turned to face Zoe, showing her the weapon. “You can touch it, but not the edges. Touch the middle.” He told her.

Zoe was hesitant to touch the seemingly sharp and dangerous weapon, but her curiosity got the better of her, reaching her hand out.

“It doesn’t bite,” Leoni remarked.

Zoe’s hand drifted against the middle of the sword, feeling the coldness of the iron. It was cold to her touch, not feeling like the grass or insects she played with. It was a new feeling that enlightened her, while also terrifying her. This feeling was different.

“The sword is called… Freedom’s Touch. I made it with you in mind, my third favorite creation.” He told her.

“What’s one and two?” She asked, tilting her head.

“The second is this fortress, the Black Fortress. The first-” He pinched her cheek playfully. “-is you.”

TBC…

Year 170

“I was your magnum opus?” She asked herself, staring into an oversized mirror. “Your favorite creation?” She stared deeper into the mirror. Her hair grew longer, reaching her waist after being put into twin-tails; and as straight as ever. Her tanned skin remained the same as when she was younger, attacked by a few pimples that she swiftly took care of.

Her eyes were still as wide as they used to be, one green and the other purple. They grew into their respective shades, a light emerald, and a deep purple.

The only difference between her five-year-old self and now was that she matured. She was no longer the same little girl grasping for straws. She knew what happened to her mother. 

She died in childbirth. She died delivering me. It’s my fault that she died. Those thoughts plagued her mind. She took the responsibility of her mother’s death as her own. However, her father always rejected those thoughts. In his eyes, Zoe was his little girl; nothing more, nothing less.

She stared at her name tag, reading, “Zoe P-K”. The “P-K” part was her last name. Prince from her father and Kravitz from her mother. She was Zoe Prince-Kravitz, the birth child of two people in love.

“Zoe!” She heard someone shout her name from outside the door. She turned away from the mirror, walking to the door and opening it. Behind the door was Griff, somebody that her father took in and mentored until his death. Like Zoe, Griff was a Guardian; a profession Leoni created that he tasked them with protecting the fortress after his death.

Griff was something of an older brother to her. 

“What’s wrong?” She asked.

Griff stroke his beard, tending to do that. His beard was whitening as the days passed. Even his body was breaking down, his muscular physique struggling to be maintained even through weeks of constant training, His skin wasn’t tanned like Zoe, but ghostly white. 

“Are you okay?” He asked her, his oval face making him look older than he was. Compared to Zoe, who had a round baby-like face, Griff was an old man trying to pretend to be a thirty-year-old man.

“Why?” She asked.

“Because… it’s the twenty anniversary of your father’s death.” 

“Thank you, Griff. However, I’m fine. It has been twenty years since he… it has been twenty years.” Zoe told him, giving him a half-smile.

You can’t tell me that when I heard you weeping last night. He thought, not wanting to say it out loud. “I’m here for you sis. If you need a shoulder to cry on or someone to talk to, I’m here.” He smiled earnestly.

Zoe nodded, chuckling softly. “Thanks, brother.” Griff nodded, walking away from the door. Zoe smiled as she closed the door.

***

“O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?” Violet, a black-haired woman, recited from a book titled, “Otherworlder Culture”. She wore a silky black dress that was reinforced by magic. Her hair was draped against her nape, stopping before venturing any further.

“Or, if thou… wilt… not… Otherworlder language is confusing.” She said, stepping out of character.

“Hey! Those are not your lines. Hurry up, I want to recite mine!” An excited Gold said. “Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?” He recited, his brows furrowing mid-way through the sentence.

“See… What does that mean? ‘Shall I speak at this’?” Violet asked.

“Yeah, shouldn’t it be… Shall I hear more, or should I speak? Those last two words are useless.” Gold remarked, sifting through his copy of the book, the translation being harsh on the leather paper.

“Yeah, do all Otherworlders speak like this?” Violet questioned.

“No idea, but they sound weird.” Gold grabbed at his normal red sweater, checking the pockets. He pulled out a dagger. “Okay, when do I stab you?”

“Shut up!” Violet said. “I get to stab you!”

The two stared at each other for a moment before laughing. “We’re dumb, aren’t we?” Violet asked, wiping a tear of joy from her eye.

“Yup, but that’s why we’re friends. Good ones, I would say.” Gold remarked, dropping the dagger at a nearby wooden table before skimming his fingers through his short blond