Lost Tomorrow

It was as if I was walking into a haunted memory of a world long forgotten. From the row of boarded windows that I’d entered through, there were small mounds of sand that had made their way like I had. It made it seem like everything the sand covered was being fossilized. A quick glance would tell you that this used to be a magnificent library; the type that had refined elegance and prosperity. Now, most of the books were gone and, in their place, stood nothing but empty promises of a bright future and cobwebs.

Banned knowledge goes for a good price in the right hands… mostly old, decrepit men’s hands, but hey, I need to eat too. Finding some of the newer spell books paid decent money, but nothing paid more than those grimoires that had lost or ancient spells.

Holding up my locket in front of me, like a dowsing pendulum, I was waiting for a reaction of any kind.

“There’s definitely gotta be one of those rooms here somewhere…”

It was a silver, heart-shaped locket left to me by my mother. Inscribed on the back was written, “To guide you to …” The rest of the sentence was faded and scratched away by the constant rubbing of the lining in my hidden pocket. It was a good representation of all my memories left of her, which is more than what I had of my father. It didn’t upset me anymore, that was the common story for everyone. If you weren’t from the families of The Protectors, then you were separated from your parents at the tender age of five and raised in one of their designated Cages. The Protectors believed if they robbed you of your past, then it’d be easier to keep everyone sheltered and safe. At least, that’s what they told everyone.

A crash could be heard from a distant window, the storm was about to pick back up.

“Tsk… if I don’t find something soon, I’m going to have to come back next month. That is, if I don’t starve before then.”

The afternoon began to slip away as I continued to explore, along with my chance of making it back through the barrier that protects the Cage of Camille. I’d rather starve a bit, then fall prey to whatever roams the old world.

The locket started to weakly pulsate with an otherworldly silvery light as I made my way, towards what I assume, was the help desk. Situated in the middle of the main hall, surrounded by tall mahogany shelves, was a half- circle alabaster countertop crowned by gold leafed branches that stemmed from the ceiling and dangled with beads of quartz crystals.

Behind the counter, engraved along the edge, was exactly what I was looking for. A heart-shaped socket carved neatly in the center. The locket then gravitated into place, with a click and began to hum and vibrate loose the thick layer of dust that settled on the ground. The ground gave way to a downward leading staircase that was lit with warm glowing salt lamps.

“Heh… guess that means that I got a shot of making it back next month.”

As I took the locket and carefully made my way down the stairs, I can hear the scraping of the entranceway closing back up behind me. Thankfully, if I have the key, these types of rooms had more than one way in or out of them. I assume that this room used to be a study that belonged to a Lost Caster, one of many people that got caught up in the storm that forced us into those forsaken Cages.

The Cages, crude as they sound, were elegant, glass like force fields that protect the survivors of the storm. On the top of each Cage, emanated the residences of the Cage’s respective Protector. They were treated like gods, for not only protecting their denizens against the deathly squalls, but for also providing Cages sunlight and making the dark less terrifying when it came to rest.

There were tons of reliquaries spread throughout the room… old animal bones in glass jars, dried herbs hanging along the walls and shelves, along with several bookshelves made of polished amber filled with books. “Jackpot.” One of these books should be enough to keep me well fed for a month… if I were to turn in this entire study, maybe it’d even be enough for me to help the little ones of the other Garden escapees.

The Protectors liked using eloquent words to name things that were meant to subjugate their charges. The Garden, was more like an orphanage meant to brainwash… I mean, educate us and sort us out into potential roles that would support glory to the Protectors. The roles of the Cages differed depending on the preference of the residing Protector. There were some cages that treated their citizens like prized pets, while there were some that used them to satisfy their lust for power. What Cage you ended up in, depended on your luck when you were taken. No one really knows how people are sorted… only those raised to be Fates are allowed to know that.

“I need to make sure these books are legit first. Don’t want to piss off my meal ticket.”

Being a Spell Hound was a lot like being a bounty hunter, lonely. So naturally, some of us developed a bit of multiple personality disorder. Which meant a lot of talking to no one, but speaking just to hear a voice. It wasn’t an official role to be a Spell Hound, more like a black-market dealings type job for people that ran away from their Gardens when they didn’t want to be an incubator for a potential Protector.

Not many people can cast magic anymore and the ones that were found to able to, where raised to be personal pets or incubators directly for the Protectors and their families. People that were successfully educated, found that to be a blessing. To the people that knew better, they know that it’s pretty much a glorified death sentence (depends on which of the Cages you were Fated to). For years I kept my abilities hidden by pretending that I couldn’t conjure or feel any mana. By chance, when I was eight, I’d heard rumors of a “Rebel group” that kept themselves hidden in the Forest of Camille. I prepared myself for years after that, teaching myself survival skills and learning Garden Guard habits. Until that moment finally came when I was thirteen, when I ran away to find and join them.

I picked up the closest book to me; a heavy leather-bound grimoire with a deep sapphire hue, and gingerly flipped through the pages. The words looked like a jumbled mess; a bunch of sticks, triangles and squares matched together in order to make some sort of sense… at first glance anyways. As I sped read through the pages, the characters began to transition into a language that I understood.

“Never gets old… so far so good.”

It always fascinated me that whatever grimoire or magical notes I picked up, seemed to speak to me. I don’t know if all magic casters had this innate ability, or even apricated it, but to me it was a sort of comfort. “Hello new friend, what do you have for me today?” The grimoire came alive and began to flip itself to its first spell.

“Ice molding… nice.” I held out my right hand and felt the pull of water droplets solidify in my palm. The sensation was like trying to flex my fingers into molding clay, without really moving my fingers. I twisted and molded the ice into a horn-like wand. Part of my weird sense of humor, considering that you don’t use wands for magic like some of the story books I found, and twirled it in my hand. To test its stability, I tapped the middle of the wand against a book shelf releasing a nice resounding ring. “Great, no chips or cracking.” Next, I roughly tapped the tip against the corner of the shelf, releasing a higher pitched ring. “Wow, this would make for a fantastic fighting style if I practiced enough.” Normally there wasn’t much need for fighting, only when there was either a greedy Spell Hound, Bounty Hunter or Cage Guard to protect yourself against. There’d been rumors of demons and monsters outside the Cage walls, but no one has ever run into those. All that’s ever been seen are the shadows of the destruction left behind.

After taking another look around, it was easy to tell that this study belonged to someone that was either very rich or favored. Most of the reliquaries here, were kept in well crafted items that would’ve been hard to come by, even in those better days. When rocks and minerals were more readily available back then, crafting anything of this quality would’ve cost a pretty penny.

“Alrighty then, lets get you to a new home.” Tucking the book away into my camper bag, I continued to look further along the shelves out of curiosity. That’s when I started to hear a faint, low humming pulse coming from my locket that I now had tied around my wrist. Bringing the locket up to eye level, it began to lightly swing towards the end of the bookcase like a magnet. Sure, it didn’t seem like something a wise person would do, but if it led me to better spoils then I don’t mind being an idiot. So, I let the magic locket lead me to whatever was calling it. The locket was being pulled towards the corner of the room about fifteen paces to my right, where there was a corner roll-top desk with the same locket seal as the entry of the study.

“Should I just grab what I can and get those kids some food? Or… maybe some REAAALLLLLY good food?”

Clicking the locket into place, the top panel faded beneath the locket to reveal a mess of notes that screamed obsession. A glance through the top layer of notes were repeated words like, Catastrophe level, Maelstrom and Shields. Shuffling away the notes, there was another seal on the surface of the desk. “Made it this far, might as well.” The sound of the locket clicking into places, was starting to lose its majesty at this point. The surface gave way to a leather-bound journal, inside a well fitted cavity. Fitted with yet another locket shaped seal. “Ugh.” It didn’t look like it mattered whether I used the locket or not, so I opened and flipped through the pages. Everything was blank.

“Fine, keep your secrets.”

Then I begrudgingly placed the locket into the cover of the book, instead of the regular click that I was used to, it simply melded into place with the chain dangling out of the front. Opening the front of the book to the first page, words blurred into place revealing the owner.

Florentina De Camille.

“No wonder everything here is so fancy.”

Reading through the pages were deep, fast scribbled notes about various elements of storms. Between two of the pages that had been fused together, were letters from more familiar names of other Protector predecessors. Plans of how to mold society, amplifying parts of the storm and controlling the remaining population with fear.

“Nope!”

I slammed the book shut and attempted to take back the locket from its new form with no luck.

“DAMN!”

I then ran back to the entryway and tried tapping the front of the book into the ceiling to re-open the door. No luck. Looking along the rest of the walls and floor for another exit, it was beginning to look a lot like I was screwed.