Life Of The Immortal Snake

Back inside Elaine's wooden hut, Boro sat before a lavishly filled table on a short marble stool, delightfully stuffing his face with all kinds of delicious food.

The speed at which he was devouring the delicacies made Elaine shiver.

Maybe trying to bribe him to stay here with expensive food had been a bad idea?

What if he wouldn't be satisfied with her normal cooking anymore?

Wouldn't that further drive him to the decision to leave the village? To leave her?

Unaware of his Nana's troubled expression, Borous was blissfully content.

This was the life he had always envisioned.

His stomach was full of delicious food, and there was even more food for him to eat, right in front of his nose.

What more could he ever want?

Nothing came to mind.

***

While Boro was having a blast and Elaine was nearing a mental breakdown, Arthur was sitting in the dining hall of the Arat mansion.

Lustlessly, he shoved a piece of meat around on his plate.

Except for a single maid who was dusting the furniture, he was all alone in the great hall.

All four of his siblings were currently away from the mansion and their father's rural land.

He missed them.

Although they didn't always treat him well, he still loved them dearly.

He had grown used to being shoved around by them over the years.

As the youngest of the five siblings, he didn't hold much authority and he would often have to take the blame for their mischievous shenanigans.

Not that he minded it all that much.

It was just that...

Sometimes, a strange loneliness took hold of his heart, ripping it into pieces over and over and over...

A shy cough awakened him from his trance.

"Ah yes, what is it, Stacey?" Arthur asked the maid who usually delivered messages from his father to him.

"His lordship has tasked me with bringing you a message young lord." The maid answered timidly, bowing her head.

It had been like that ever since his mother had perished all those years ago. After that, he hadn't seen his father much.

Usually, he stayed inside his study for most of the day, demanding not to be disturbed.

Before his thoughts began to drift further away, Arthur shook his head and focused his eyes on the maid.

When had she even entered the room?

It did not matter.

"You had a message for me?" He asked, his voice shallow and strained from exhaustion.

He hated the state of his family. If only his mother had still been with them, maybe it wouldn't be like this.

Silently, Stacey handed him a letter.

Its wax sigil was unbroken, yes, seriously, a waxen sigil!

'Who still uses those in this age and time?' Arthur wondered silently. Using magic for these matters was way cheaper and more secure!

Well, it wasn't his problem.

He just found it to be a strange quirk of this father of his.

He dismissed Stacey, telling her to take the evening off.

The other maid had left the hall some time ago as well, hence he was blessed with being alone once more.

Leisurely, he extinguished the candles illuminating the hall himself and once the hall was shrouded in the darkness of night, he withdrew to his chambers and collapsed onto his bed like a wet sack of wheat.

He closed his eyes for a short moment.

He hated this! Maybe he should just leave his father's estate behind and pursue the path of magic as well. But no, he couldn't do that to his father.

He couldn't leave him here, all alone.

Sighing, he pulled the letter from his chest pocket and looked at it for a few minutes.

As much as he hated these letters, he had to admit their family sigil was rather stylish.

The crimson wax it was cast with, displayed their family symbols.

A shield and a sword layered above each other, forming the first defense line of the Empire, that was who the Arats were!

Arthur paused, noticing something peculiar.

Was that a serpent coiling around the edge of their insignia?

Strange, he had never noticed that before.

It must have been one of the symbols used by the inner circle of the family.

The Arats were merely a vassal family to one of the core lineages of the Empire, yet they still held considerable power.

Well, had held.

After a long period of procrastination, Arthur finally broke the sigil and pulled out his father's letter. It was written in a neat, graceful handwriting, one Arthur had grown to despise over the years.

It wasn't that he hated his father, no, the opposite was the case.

Yet the insurmountable distance his father had built up over the years deeply cut into his heart.

Slowly he unfolded the letter, reading every line with caution.

His hands trembled and a few tears fell onto the dry paper.

Sudden anger washed over Arthur.

Sniffling, he crumbled the letter and threw it across his room in a fit of childish rage.

'Alright then father, if you really want me to leave this place so badly, I won't deny you your wish!'

Limply he fell into his covers, hiding his tears in one of his pillows.

He had decided, he would leave for the academy with the next caravan.

'I don't want to be here anymore.'

***

Borous couldn't sleep.

He was too excited!

Magic truly was a wondrous thing, his mind was racing, memories old and new coming and going like the tides.

Yet one memory stayed, etched into the walls of his soul.

It was the memory of the flow, it was so familiar yet it felt distant and frail.

It was as if his birthright had been taken from him, cut into pieces before his very eyes, trampled on by a tyrannical fiend.

Defiantly, Borous stretched out his hand.

No one would take that which was his.

No one.

Even if the Gods themselves descended, it would not stop him from pursuing his desires!

Who could deny his claim?

Who would dare?

Borous would learn magic and how to create candy from thin air!

Not even Gjrktanzh the Terrible would be able to stop him!

Although he was unsure who exactly this suposedly terrible person actually was.

The name had simply appeared in his mind some time ago and he didn't seem to be able to let it go.

It did not matter, for no one could stop him!

Borous clasped his hand into a fist, expressing his desires to the world, shaping and forming it to carry his will.

A blinding light ignited inside his clenched fist, drowning the night sky in its pale shine for a fraction of a moment.

Yet, that was all it took.

Somewhere in the far far distance of the night sky, a creature was waking from its millennia-long slumber.

Its numerous limbs stretched at unnatural angles, the myriad of eyes lining its entire body slowly beginning to awaken from oblivion.

It was slow but inevitable, it was awaking from its slumber.

And it was not alone.