Sheadon was sleeping peacefully when something hesitantly reached out and touched his mind. It was a familiar touch, but invasive and he slapped the magical probe away casually as he slowly began to wake up. Was someone trying to mess with him? It was too early for that. He just wanted to keep sleeping. He opened his eyes slowly but let out a painful groan as a splitting headache tore through his mind, one of the worst ones he had in years.
"I'm dying," he moaned, trying to open his eyes. The dim light was to much however, and he quickly shut them in pain. It felt like someone had taken a spike to his head. Had he been drinking last night? He couldn't remember, which probably meant he had. Maybe Garrett had talked him into having some of his special wine again. God he had to stop giving in and drinking that stuff, these hangovers were no joke.
He paused for a moment at the thought. He knew the name Garret, knew who the man was, but had no clear memory of him. That was odd. He felt they had been friends, and would often drink together, but had no recollection of that ever happening. It was like his memories were struggling to piece something together and were failing. Maybe he did a little more then drink last night?
"All right," he whispered, "you got this." His throat was so dry he had to swallow a couple times, and then carefully he slowly peeled his eyes open. The dull light was still painful, but he rapidly blinked his eyes, waiting and pushing through the dull ache in his head as he sat up with another loud groan. Tears ran down his face as his eyelids fought him for dominance over wether they would stay open or not, he won.
Looking around he realized with a start that he wasn't in his room, in fact he had no idea where he was. Confused, still feeling hungover, and now getting slightly irritated he wobbled to his feet, bracing himself against the wall as his stomach threatened to eject all of its contents over the floor. 'Whooo there buddy breath, deep calming breaths' he thought to himself.
His eyes cleared and his stomach calmed down a bit so he slowly straightened up and glanced around. He was in some small room. And it wasn't his, he was sure of that now. "What did we do last night?" he mumbled, he was most likely already late for morning prayers, that was going to get him extra kitchen duty. Hopefully this wasn't one of the Archpriests rooms, he assumed it wasn't since no one had bothered to wake him up as he slept.
Still stumbling, he braced himself against the wall as he fumbled his way to the door. Grabbing the handle he tried to push it open, but was confused as the door didn't budge an inch. He pushed harder, straining against it, nothing. Maybe it was a pull door? He tried to pull, but still the door didn't even creak. Awesome, he was locked in someone else's room. This was not going to be a good day, he could already tell.
A quick survey of the room didn't turn up any new information either. It was basic but most priests rooms were. No window, a small cot, little night stand, and chest at the end of the bed that probably held blankets or extra clothes. There was no obvious source of light, though the walls seemed to be emanating a soft glow. Huh that was new, pretty cool enchantment too. The walls themselves were made out of a smooth seamless stone, obviously shaped with magic. He checked the nightstand quickly for a key, nothing. The chest was next, it popped open to reveal extra blankets and nothing else. He peeked under the bed and only found a small bucket that smelled distinctly of urine. Whoever's room this was must be lazy. They kept a bucket in their room instead of heading out to the latrines? Seriously some people.
All the obvious possibilities exhausted Sheadon glanced back at the door and frowned at it. He didn't want to yell for help if he didn't have too, the last thing he wanted was for this story to get around the temple. Not that Garrett wasn't already gossiping about him being missing at prayers by now. That thought made him pause. Once again Garrett had popped into his mind, and though he did't remember this man, or him ever gossiping about him before, he had the distinct feeling it was something he'd do. And why did he feel like he needed to be at prayers? Every thought he had seemed to fall through his hands like sand, existing for a mere second before falling away and disappearing without taking any true form. This had to be the worst hangover ever. Maybe someone had mixed some mushrooms in with the drink.
Groaning in confusion he decided he was pretty much running out of options. And waiting here until someone stumbled in on him was probably not a great idea. Well magic seemed like the next obvious choice, maybe he could still get out of here without to much trouble. He grinned as he rubbed his hands together, his particular affinity wold be perfect for this. "Wait why am I rubbing my hands together?" He whispered, suddenly feeling even more confused. And what the heck was his magical affinity? He knew that someone's affinity usually referred to the branch of magic they were pursuing, but he had no memory of his, or of a branch of magic to begin with.
Feeling more nervous with each passing second Sheadon closed his eyes and directed his attention inward. Centering himself to where his power dwelt in his magical center. It was hard to focus with the damn headache that was still pounding behind his eyes, but he managed to fight through the distraction. What he felt though was confusing, this wasn't his magical center, was it? He didn't remember what it should look like, but what he was seeing felt... wrong.
As he gazed on his center he realized that it looked warped and twisted. He knew it should be like a smooth glowing ball of magical energy, but his looked nothing like that. Thick strands of dark gray, black, and a oft silver were woven throughout, and instead of a normal calm glow and smooth surface the thing looked tumultuous. It kept writhing and twisting, as if struggling to get free.
He paused for a moment, confused at what he was seeing. Maybe the drinking last night had affected his magical center? He had heard of drinks laced with magical powder that could disrupt someone's center, and if that was happening then maybe this headache was't just because of booze. If anything he would need to refine and cycle whatever that energy was that was woven into his center.
Hesitantly he reached out with his mind, carefully touching his magical center. As soon as he did the whole thing erupted into a furious mess. His headache instantly increased to a giant pounding, and his magic erupted erratically. He quickly tried to withdraw, but one of the dark gray strands woven into his center brushed against his mind. It was unlike anything he had ever felt, the magic felt sharp in his mind, like it was made from thousands of blades.
The dark strand seemed to wrap around his will, writing and pulsing as it broke away from his magic center, a blob of color. Sheadon realized he was moving on instinct. Grabbing the blood of color in his mind he began to force it into a shape, weaving and moving it around as it took form. He stopped as the shape suddenly felt right, and without even thinking he released his control of it. In a flash of light the dark gray light vanished. Something seemed to leap from him and Sheadon jerked his hand back in surprise as a hum began to fill his mind.
Then the night stand exploded. It burst into a thousand pieces as if someone had shredded the whole thing. Wooden slivers sprayed over the whole room, leaving a coating of dust and wood everywhere.
Sheadon went to block his eyes but the sensation knocked him onto the floor. He lay there, gasping for a breath and dry heaving as saw dust rained down on him like little snow flakes. I took a few minutes before finally being able to calm his shaky breath down. "What the hell was that?" He gasped, propping himself up against the wall. Whatever was woven into his magic center wasn't normal, or at least he didn't think so. As soon as the dark silver strand had touched him the feelings that assailed him were so strong he hadn't been able to stand them. He could have sworn he head heard a voice too, someone yelling a single word, "Listen!" It had been so intense, so real, that he honestly almost passed out at the mere thought.
Not touching that for now. He quickly decided, he would need to find one of the archpriests for help with whatever was going on with his magic center. This was beyond him. And with magic no longer an option it meant he had to suck up his pride and get out of here the old fashioned way.
"HELP!" He yelled, pounding on the sturdy wooden door. When no one answered he yelled again, beating his fists against the door and making the loudest racket he could. In truth whatever was going on had him on edge, and he wanted to get help for it, and quick. Plus he had to pee, and that bucket under the bed was starting to look a little to inviting.
"Can anyone out there hear me?" He screamed, "Someone come and open this door!"
He continued with it for a couple minutes, though the noise he was making only made his head feel worse.
Suddenly the sound of a key being inserted into the door reached his ears and he paused stepping back as it slowly swung open. "Thank the gods," he breathed as he stepped forward with a smile, "You would not believe th-"
His voice as cut off as two spears stopped him in his tracks, and the grim looking men holding them gave him a hard glare. Uhoh. Maybe he had been more drunk last night then he thought? He didn't recognize these guys, or their uniforms, what had he gotten into? The strange humming sound had also started again, and he realized with some confusion that it was coming from the spears. They were resonating with... hunger? Was that even possible? He actually felt like they wanted blood.
Putting on a weak smile he held up his hands innocently. "Look gentlemen, I'm not sure what happened but I know we can work this out," he said, trying to put them at ease. Neither one of them lowered their spears, instead their faces darkened visibly at his every word. Not good, maybe he had done something pretty bad last night? Their beady little eyes flickered from him to the wood chips that lay everywhere and he realized that the room was a mess now. "Yea, I am so sorry about that," he tried again, "And to be honest I'm not even sure how it happened, but the nightstand just kind of... exploded." He tried another weak smile but wilted back at the blank stares he received in return.
"Fascinating," a voice said from behind the men, and Sheadon noticed a short balding man for the first time. A single monocle was on one eye, resting against a long hooked nose, and a large forehead. A fringe of white hair covered the lower half of his head, and his lips pursed in thought as he looked Sheadon up in down. "So he is finally awake, never thought it would actually happen," the man admitted.
Never thought he'd see it happen! How long had he been sleeping! Had it been a couple days? What was in that wine?! He wondered if the temple had been searching for him? He secretly doubted it, since he was just a minor acolyte, but Garrett would probably have told someone about his disappearance. Once again his thoughts made him pause, why did he think he was a minor acolyte? He had no recollection of anything that had to do with that. It had to be this hangover, it was messing with his memory. A good hot meal and a bath would do wonders to clear his head he was sure.
Though he was struggling with remembering anything he did know some names. He knew that a man by the name of Father Laurier was his superior, he knew Garrett was a friend who made wine. He knew he was a priest, and that he was probably late for his duties. But the more he thought about the things he knew, the more he realized his head was sort of... empty. He knew things, but had no memories about them, nothing connecting the knowledge to his thoughts. Something felt wrong. Very wrong.
Looking at the men Sheadon did his best to put on a calm smile as he gestured toward the spears. "I promise you there is nothing to fear from me. I'm not sure what has happened in these past few days but I assure you we can work it out. I am from the temple Syntyma," Oh great, another word he knew but had no memory of. "Father Laurier is my direct supervisor, you can contact him." None of them moved or reacted, but the short man slowly began to nod his head as he looked Sheadon up and down.
"It is a wonder, he seems to be in control of all his sense, and still retains the ability to even talk and speak! I figured if this day ever came he would be brain dead, a drooling mindless lump. But he is talking and even using names for people, truly a marvel," Baldy, as Sheadon had just decided to name him, said.
"Uhhhh, I am right here and can here you!" Sheadon stated weakly waving his hands in a vain attempt to get their attention, "Maybe you could tell me what's going on? I'm assuming I did something, and whatever it was I will apologize to whoever I need to. When I drink a lot things can get out of hand. At least I think they can. To be honest I don't know for sure what happens when I drink," he trailed off, frowning at his thoughts that were spinning away from him. He was beginning to feel uneasy and tense. Panic was slowly gripping his heart and he fought to stay calm, something was wrong with him he was sure of it now.
Baldy chuckled at him and then slipped passed the guards who tensed as he approached Sheadon. They were obviously worried that he would try to hurt the little man. Sheadon did his best to look unthreatening, still smiling though he had no idea what was going on and his breath was beginning to become labored as he fought the rising unease he felt. Baldy slowly circled him, stopping in front of him again and poked him in the chest, hard. "Ouch!" Sheadon barked, slapping the mans hand away, "That hurt!"
The guards immediately stepped forward, their spears ready and Sheadon gulped. "I mean go ahead, maybe just be more gentle with the poking?"
"He even retains feeling in his body, how interesting," Baldy murmured as he poked Sheadon's arms, taking his left one in his hand and studying it. "No decay, no signs of deterioration, muscles do not seemed to have atrophied, what a marvel!"
"Decay?" Sheadon blurted out, doing his best to gently take his arm back from the man. "What do you mean decay? Was I poisoned? Was I dying? Am I still?" He had been correct, this was not going to be a good day.
"And yet no memory of before it seems," Baldy said, "Sad, whatever you walked through would have been interesting to hear."
"I am sorry," Sheadon said, trying his best to not get frustrated but he was quickly loosing his temper. "What is going on! Where am I? And why do you keep acting like it is a surprise that I am alive!"
Baldy paused, as if hearing Sheadon for the first time. "Well you've been asleep for as long as I have been here, honestly never thought you would wake up!"
"A-asleep?" Sheadon stuttered. "For how long!? How long have I been asleep?"
"I don't know the exact dates," Baldy admitted, "but I have been stationed here for nearly a decade and you have been here the entire time."
A decade. Sheadon stumbled back, feeling woozy and nauseous. A decade, he had been asleep for ten years! How was that even possible? Why had no one come for him in that time? Or maybe they had tried but couldn't find him? After all he wasn't even sure where he was.
He tried to steady his breathing and his heart felt like a drum pounding in his chest. The others just watched him, and the short man seemed to be studying his reaction. Baldy had pulled out a notepad from somewhere and was scribbling on it as he observed Sheadon. Real helpful there Baldy.
'At least this cannot get any worse,' Sheadon thought, scrambling for something uplifting to cling to. So he had lost a few years of his life, his best years, but he was still alive, he could start over. "Where am I?" Sheadon finally managed to ask as he got his breathing under control. "And how soon till I can head home?"
"Oh I am afraid that won't be happening," Baldy calmly said as he wrote something else down. He paused to glance up at Sheadon, "You're currently in a prison for crimes against the gods and humanity. The sentence is for life, so I'm afraid you will never be leaving this room."
Worse. It had just gotten worse.
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