“What the...!!”

Gerey roared out. After all they'd been through, the curiousity they'd bore for a week, listening to the nonsense the Old trickster who'd manipulated their Principal into sacking their beloved Mr. Alas Sergo had spilled in class, the book was empty?!

They'd both gone astray in their thoughts thinking of the vile and mean and dirty and old Oswic Osbald, and they didn't realize a large mouth with an awkwardly red tongue that spawned out of nowhere, clasped to the yellow, brittle paper of the book. It was a huge shock that shuddered through them when an insolent, loud and shameless voice shouted at them, “What are you two doing! Keeping me open?”

They were both taken aback, Cwena looked up at the window to see if anyone was there and Gerey stared at the door, expecting anyone to come in at that moment.

“I'm the book you dolts!” the book said in a boring, matter-of-fact voice, “you didn't expect me to be a dumb book that bears the tickles of an inked feather tingling on its pages do ya?!”

“Uhm, no - no. Not at all,” Cwena put in mildly, trying hard to hide the look of disbelief at what she could see right before her, on the gathered hay.

The book remained silent, twisting its lips like a female putting on a gloss, “Well, I'm Cwena Engow, and this is Gerey -”

“Spare me the details,” the book screamed loudly at her, “I know who you both are better than you both know yourself,”

“Shhh, you're going to attract my mother's attention if you continue speaking with such volume. And how did you know us?”

“Don't you dare lay as much as a finger on me,” with a scared tone, the book told Gerey who'd wanted to lift it unto his lap, “Unless - you want to burn me.”

Gerey in his entire life had never been more confused than he was at that moment. He breathed in, “Okay, I won't if you start answering Cwena's questions. How do you know us?”

“Hmmm, tap - tap - tap,” the book started, “I don't know.”

Awkward silence grew over the room then the book continued talking, “I just know who you both are, and that you both have the same grandfather and -”

“What?! Same what?”

“That's false. We're just friends and not related by blood.”

The book chuckled dryly, “I don't know what you both believe now but you both are related. Your grandfather, Myan Warray, the god of Flames, married your grand mother and had a daughter, Gerey, but he was unfaithful - got himself a Mistress whose name I think is uhm - Eveth Engow? And she got pregnant for your father before he died.”

“But... I don't know my -”

“- Mother? Yeah, she was... Killed, while trying to protect you from things she never understood herself. You were just a little over two years old back then.”

“But what is going to happen, I mean, why is Oswic -”

“How dare you call a name so great without reverence?!!” The book screamed at Gerey, before letting out two heart deep coughs.

“Sorry, why is Sir Oswic Osbald at our school now?”

“Bless my weak memory. There was a prophecy once of someone that will shut the gates of - Hell? For good. And that's you, Gerey, I guess.”

“Huh? Me? Definitely not! And what does the prophecy say exactly and who gave it out?”

The book closed suddenly! Causing a great deal of dust to fly off its pages as three gentle knocks came from the door and the door opened up slowly.

It was Mrs. Engow, Cwena's mother and wife to the son of Eveth Engow.”

She held two large, white cups Medium (16 floz): 145mg in her hand and smiled wide, her big, brown eyes twinkled as she smiled, “I thought I heard some noise from here”

“No mum, must a' been from somewhere else,” Cwena replied with a beam.

“Uhm, okay then. Have these cups of coffee. And Gerey, could you stop in for a chit chat when you both are done with that - book? Been a while I saw you.” Mrs. Engow blushed and left the cabin.

In a flash, both their attentions was shifted to the ragged book on the hay. Cwena ran her hands softly over the book, trying to open it again. She tapped ever edge, and corner. She ran her fingers all over the book just like she'd done before but nothing happened. The book failed to open.

“I guess Sir Oswic will have to answer our questions himself on Monday.”


Chief Inspector Eallric Hancey's telephone went off.

Eallric who had been sitting on an old fashioned recliner on his front porch with a snout to his mouth, enjoying the heat that tanned his fair skin, waving at passersby that paced no. 3, Atholl Esplanade, as he took in deep whiffs bolted inside the house as the shrill ring blared from inside.

“Inspector Eallric on the line.”

The sound of disordered shuffling of papers and struggled breathing answered Eallric who was losing patience and calm at being disturbed on such a fine day.

“Who am I on to?” he said again, finding it very difficult from sounding rude.

“It's Sergeant Marger Whayte, sir. I wanted to tell you that I'm done with the paperwork, sir, and also, sir, there's a new case we received about fifteen minutes ago, sir. It's best if you're on seat as soon as possible.”

“Have you told Inspector Bertio about it?”

“Yes sir. He advised that I called you instantly, sir. He said he thinks it has something to do with the case at Hunter's Walk, sir.”

“Okay, will be there in thirty.”

Eallric dropped the call with a sigh, “What's it again?” he griped, running a hand over his face.


In about seven minutes, Eallric Hancey was ready for work. He had his impervious vest underneath his dark blue uniform, tinted glasses, heavy metal boots and a two-way radio on his belt area - just in case.

There had been a rise in petty thieving, bicycle and a few carjacks, domestic brutality and rape. Immense pressure was being put on the Police Department, Ingfalls, every minute, and it didn't help that Eallric knew what he was going to meet in office wasn't like any of those.

“Is there an Emergency at work or are you just trying to cultivate a good working ethic?” Brione Hancey asked, smiling.

“Ugh, it's the former. An Emergency, something just like the one at Hunters Walk, I think,” he looked around for his bunch of keys and found it scattered on the dining table, “And also, don't tell Gerey but I feel it concerns him although I still can't find a connection. You and him might have to leave Ingfalls if things get worse. I know a place at Ciburrh.”

Eallric Hancey hastily stepped out of their modest home and jugged all the way to his Garage where his Peugeot 404 was - in it's territory, ready to spring into action.


The sky was bright blue with a fluffy white hue that crisscrossed it at several points. The feathered friends of nature - inky and snowy, trivial and great, piloted and fluttered across the sky with carefree, unfiltered elegance and comely hoots which they all chirped tone by tone, producing a harmonious composition but Eallric didn't notice, or maybe didn't care about all those as his 404 hummed down Coalrior Highway.

After a short while, he came to Mariners Spur which although was inclined to being silent than not (normally), was way too silent for Eallric's comfort this time around. It was almost as if everyone had gone on a holiday.

He cut down the velocity of his car, observing buildings after buildings made of imported, white, precious stones to little bungalows deficient of ample windows for maybe a telltale sign to what had happened. Not even a rat ran past him and the birds suddenly seemed to have cleared off.

Chief Inspector Eallric Hancey released a deep breath of relief as he pulled up in the Police Department, Ingfalls' parking lot.

The environment wasn't what it usually was, it was the opposite of what he'd seen on the street of Mariners Spur. There were people, lots of people, many, many people; mostly people who'd come to report a - case, mostly of weird sightings all over Ingfalls!

Eallric felt a sudden surge of drive as he walked with conviction into the intimidating, white erection. He walked past the reception filled with citizens of Ingfalls up to the stairs from where he jugged up to his office. In the reception area was woman and her baby of five, a family of four, an old man with a hunting rifle slung over his shoulder, an old woman who obviously had leg pains and about fifteen others including a young girl not more than twenty years old with mousy hair; all there to narrate an event, all negative.

As Eallric slumped into his cosy office chair, Inspector Bertio Holex and Sergeant Marger Whayte both stormed into his office, not bothering to knock.

“Sir! There's a really big issue,” Bertio started

“There was a -”

“Can you both please have your seats and let's discuss this like sane humans?”

Their butts shifted on their cold seats and Mrs. Sergeant Marger spoke,

“Sir, there was a party at Radford Glade last night, not too far from Seymour Point, sir, and - sir, everyone that was present at the party last night - have vanished.”

At that moment, Inspector Bertio Holex broke into a sweat as his phone started ringing.

“Sir, it is - the Chamber of Duties that's calling - for the second time in two hundred years.”

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