The Writer - Chapter 8

The trip back to the base in the Crossover Forest was entirely uneventful. The group camped out on the ground occasionally, and they only passed through one village. Emmeline and Newt made sure to take a detour around Luca’s house, which Forrest was glad for. 

Every night before they went to bed, Coral insisted on brainstorming ways to remove Forrest’s Curse. He pretended to pay attention, especially since Coral was so devoted to the idea. It made him feel guilty all over again, but Forrest didn’t want to tell Coral about his true hesitations to regain his voice. 

The bottle was like a lead weight in his belt. The presence was constantly festering in his mind like an open wound. 

The trip home was a quiet one too. Beckett and Newt made casual conversation, most of which consisted of Newt explaining real world experiences to the young and inexperienced prince. Clara stayed lost in her thoughts for the most part, which was odd for her. 

Forrest had grown up with Clara, though they hadn’t really been the best of friends. Yet he knew from the past that she was normally quite talkative. It must have had something to do with her flashbacks. The thought of flashbacks made the memories hidden behind Forrest’s mental wall pound for justice. He ignored them. 

Emmeline was quiet as always. Her fingers kept straying to the pen tucked into her belt and she mumbled things under her breath. 

It was a bit unnerving not to encounter any opposition during the journey. Surely Baelle was searching for them, but the goddess had been surprisingly and freakily quiet. Forrest was actually missing the action a little bit. 

They happened to arrive back at the mansion base in the middle of the night. Titus wasn’t waiting for them, which Forrest was glad for. The dude gave him some creepy vibes. 

“Be as quiet as possible,” Emmeline warned them with a hiss as Forrest and Coral led the horses into the stable. “If any of the generals wake up and find us here, we’re all as good as dead.” 

Forrest nodded. Silence wouldn’t be a problem for him. Beckett, on the other hand… 

Just as Forrest expected, right after he closed the door to the stable, there was a large crash like a vase shattering. 

Shouts echoed through the mansion and Forrest grabbed Coral and pulled her into the shadows. He placed a hand over her mouth to keep her from crying out as arrows whizzed by and embedded themselves in the wood just inches from where the pair was standing. Coral’s pulse quickened under Forrest’s hands. 

“How did you know there would be arrows?” Coral whispered, her voice muffled under Forrest’s hand. 

He shook his head, warning her to be quiet. He had snuck out a few times and nearly gotten killed before he learned that there were archers in the top windows to prevent attacks from Baelle. 

The arrows stopped suddenly and loud voices were erupting from the mansion. Forrest grabbed Coral’s hand and pulled her silently along the walls near the stable. They needed to stay covered until the others revealed themselves, otherwise they would have more arrows in them than the archers did in their quivers. 

“Geez, people, can I please not be skewered?” Beckett’s voice rang out from the front doors. 

“You snuck out, your highness,” a voice of an older man argued. Forrest groaned inwardly. Of course they had happened to wake up the generals. 

“And?” 

“Well,...” 

“I’m going to bed, so if you’ll please let me pass, I’ll be heading off,” came Beckett’s reply, followed by footsteps of someone storming inside. 

“Where are the rest of your little friends?” the general called after the boy. “Titus said you all were ill.” 

Forrest couldn’t see Beckett, but he silently pleaded that the younger boy would keep his cover. The general had given him enough information to form a strong lie, especially if Beckett took advantage of the general’s weakness.

“They’re inside, still resting,” Beckett lied. “Another day and we should be back on our feet. I can show you to them now, if you’d like. We’ve mostly cleaned up the vomit, although this walk has made me a bit queasy-” 

“I’ll be fine, thank you,” the general replied curtly. “Goodnight, young prince.” 

Silence followed and Forrest finally released his hold on Coral. She inhaled shakily, taking a moment to regain her composure. “How will we get inside?” 

Forrest pointed upwards where windows lined the walls of the house. Under the glass were tiny, plant boxes filled with flowers. Luckily for Forrest and Coral, these plants hadn’t been tended to in over three decades. Vines had grown down the wall, covering it in good hand holds and foot holds. 

Coral looked hesitant as she glanced over the thin ivy. “You sure that’ll hold us?” 

Forrest shrugged. It had held him fine when he was alone, surely it could hold both of them. Coral inhaled deeply, her fingers trembling. 

Forrest grabbed the vines lowest to the ground, his fingers tightening around them. The vines gave a little under his weight, but they didn’t snap. He pulled himself upwards, and within a few minutes, he was perched right beside a window. This was the trickiest part. Coral was right behind him, so Forrest needed to move quickly. 

He adjusted his position so he could hook his legs through loops of vines on the walls. It took some maneuvering a few close calls, but Forrest was secured to the wall. 

He wedged his fingers under the window, but the glass was stuck tight. Crap, did they lock the windows for once? Knowing Forrest’s life, probably. Forrest pulled harder, panic pooling in his stomach. 

The window slid open easily, but Forrest knew the damage had been done. The vines around his legs loosened and Forrest spiraled towards the ground. 

Memories tugged at Forrest’s mind, and as much as he tried to force them back, they fought with even more strength. Why did flashbacks always occur in the most inconvenient of times? Forrest couldn’t help himself. He slipped into memories. 

A scene took shape before his eyes. Forrest saw his mother, her flaming red hair reminding him much of a meaner Clara. His younger self sprung from the ground like a sapling, his dark hair contrasting with his tan skin. Young Forrest looked so carefree, and it made Forrest feel homesick. 

The younger Forrest seemed to be about five or six, but it wasn’t clear which. He was playing with a large, wooden sword. Forrest’s mother had wanted him to be just like his father - a soldier. He had begun training from an early age. 

Forrest’s mother stroked his hair lovingly, but there was a sadness that clouded her eyes. Forrest knew why, of course. This was the end of his life with his parents - the very day he was Cursed. 

A door slammed open and a man stormed inside. He had an uncanny similarity to Forrest. With the same dark hair and muscular form, they could’ve been mistaken for different versions of the same person. The only difference was the bronze sheen of Forrest’s father’s skin, which glinted with sweat. 

“Honey, is there something wrong?” Forrest’s mother stood up abruptly, making Young Forrest set his sword down. 

Forrest’s father, or as the boy called him, Brooks, ran a hand through his hair. Forrest had never understood why his father insisted on being called Brooks rather than father or papa, but he honored the request. 

Brooks nodded, suddenly seeming many years older. “‘Ze cannot afford zo keep me in ze force. We are losing money faster zan we can protect ze citizens.” 

The man also spoke with a distinct lisp, but it was comforting to Young Forrest. Older Forrest had forgotten the sound of his father’s voice, the way his lisp made him sound like he was from another land. 

“That’s so terrible,” Forrest’s mother sympathized. “But I’m sure someone in the town will be willing to hire you.” 

Brooks scoffed. Even Young Forrest knew full well that no one hired unemployed men with backgrounds in fighting - it could only lead to violence and workers who expected higher pay. This would be a terrible setback for the family. 

Forrest’s mother buried her face in Brooks’s shoulder as she sobbed. Young Forrest didn’t understand what was happening, so he watched from the floor. 

“What are we going to do? We’re struggling as it is-” Forrest’s mother began. 

Forrest’s father held up a hand. “Darling, I understand that it may seem like there’s nothing we can do, but…” His voice trailed off and his eye twitched. 

Young Forrest was intelligent enough to know there was something off. He stood up slowly as his mother wiped her eyes, sniffing. His father brought his other hand around from the back of the shirt and in it was a silvery blade. 

Forrest didn’t hesitate, the young boy lunged for his father without hesitation. The knife clattered to the floor and Forrest’s mother screamed. 

There was blood spurting from Young Forrest’s nose and the boy realized his father had punched him. Brooks was standing still as a statue like he wasn’t sure what he had done. Forrest’s mother grabbed the boy and backed away in shock. 

A figure suddenly materialized in the middle of the room. Forrest’s mother pulled Young Forrest closer to her as the figure took the form of a woman. 

Old Forrest was spitting with rage at the sight of the goddess Racke. A white hood was pulled over her head, and her robes were the same shade. Her face was masked by shadows, making it impossible to get a clear look at her. 

Brooks dropped to his knees. “Please, ma’m, I’m so sorry…” 

Racke looked down at the man in disgust. Her voice was like the purr of a cat when she spoke, and the words poured from her mouth as slow as honey. “Family is the greatest blessing, and you have tried to eliminate yours.” 

“Please, I wasn’t zinking” 

“You really thought you could get away with trying to kill them?” 

“No, I wasn’t trying. My emotions overwhelmed me. Please, Racke, you must believe me-” 

“Emotions,” Racke mumbled. “What a marvelous idea.” 

The Curse of Anger Issues, Old Forrest thought bitterly. If only Brooks had kept his mouth shut and kept his emotions in check. 

Racke pointed a finger at Brooks, but just as she tried to Curse him, the man lunged for Forrest. He grabbed the young boy’s arm, pulling the child in front of him. The Curse hit Forrest straight on. 

The goddess rushed to take it back, but Brooks got to his feet, leaving his son limp on the ground. “You are not welcome here, Racke. Begone.” The man thrust out his hands and Racke disappeared in a poof of smoke. Forrest’s mother rushed towards Young Forrest, her skinny arms cradling her son. His skin had a gray pallor to it. 

Brooks turned away, but Old Forrest could see tears forming in his eyes. The man threw himself at the door, rushing away without so much as a goodbye. 

“Coward,” Forrest’s mother yelled, along with some other choice words. 

The memory ended suddenly, screeching to a halt. “No!” Forrest cried out, trying to scramble to help his younger self. But the present sucked him in like a whirlpool. 

Falling. Forrest was falling towards the ground. His memory seemed to last only a second before depositing him back into the present. Was this how he was going to die? 

Suddenly, vines lashed out from the walls like they had a mind of their own. They looped around his legs and arms, ending his fall or at least attempting to cushion it. Forrest’s descent stopped quickly as the vines pulled taut. 

He dangled upside down for only a second before the plants released him. 

Forrest crumpled to the ground, bruising his limbs but not officially dying. Two figures stood over him, which he recognized as Emmeline and Newt. 

“You’re lucky Emmeline is the favorite of the goddesses,” Newt said with a smile that told Forrest the other boy would never let him live this down. “Otherwise, we’d have a flat Forrest - and a murderous Coral.” 

Forrest stuck out his tongue at Newt, which he knew was childish but it felt good. Newt laughed, easing the tension. 

“Newt,” Emmeline warned. She looked especially pale in the moonlight, her green eyes the only bright thing about her. In fact, she looked too pale… “Newt,” Emmeline whispered again, before collapsing backwards. 

Newt was there to catch her, supporting her weight before lowering her to the ground. The blonde boy tutted his tongue. “I guess magic is too much work for her. Whoa, look out-” 

Coral dropped to the ground beside Forrest. She gripped his arm tightly, nails digging into his skin. “I thought you were going to die. Next time, ask for help. The mighty Forrest can have friends, y’know.” 

Forrest glanced at Emmeline, ignored Coral’s comment. They had bigger problems - like how to get Emmeline up the walls and into the mansion before anyone noticed. 

Speaking of getting into the mansion, where was Clara? Forrest asked Newt, which Coral translated. The boy thought for a moment before replying. “She slipped inside while Beckett distracted General Ice.” 

“Good,” Coral mumbled. “At least we don’t have to worry about her and the prince. But how will we get Emmeline up?” 

Forrest offered to carry her, though he knew it wasn’t the best idea. Unsurprisingly, both Coral and Newt nixed the idea. Coral didn’t want Forrest falling again, and Newt didn’t want Forrest to drop Emmeline. 

“Hmm, I wonder if the vines will welcome her,” Newt said quietly. 

Without waiting for a response, he grabbed the girl and hoisted her up, carrying her to the wall. The vines seemed to reach out for her, but after grazing her arms they fell limp. Newt gave an exhausted sigh. 

Just then, Emmeline’s eyes fluttered open. She gasped for breath, startling Newt out of his wits and the boy nearly dropped her. 

“I’m fine,” Emmeline said before anyone could argue. Forrest didn’t respond, but he gestured towards the wall. They needed to hurry, it was unlikely that General Ice would be convinced by Beckett’s lie. 

Coral heeded his warning and both her and Forrest grabbed onto the vines and began to climb. This time, Forrest was more cautious and made sure that he was locked in between each leap. Emmeline and Newt followed behind until the group reached the window. It was already open, so Forrest had no problem slipping through it and into the dark room. 

“Where are we?” Coral whispered as she climbed into the room. 

Forrest didn’t answer, so Newt did instead. “I think we’re in the Division.” The Division was the term coined for the hallway that separated the boys rooms from the girls rooms. Of course, the only kids in the mansion were Forrest and his friends and the members of the travelling circus. 

“Well, I guess we should head to bed before Ice comes to look for us,” Emmeline sighed. 

“Goodnight, guys, nice adventuring with ya,” Coral yawned. Her and Emmeline disappeared into the corridor on the right. 

Newt turned to Forrest, and the pair made their way into the dark room. 

Morning brought lots of screaming, arguments, and jaw-dropping news. Forrest wasn’t eager to head to breakfast, but he knew that he couldn’t avoid it. 

Everyone else was already waiting at the table, though there was more eating than talking. Three older men were sitting at the head of the table, each one declaring authority with their presence. 

Emmeline and Newt were staring at their food, Clara and Beckett beside them in an attempt to make casual conversation. Coral was alone, flipping through a book. 

“Ah, the silent one is here, now we can begin,” General Rock grumbled, his voice wheezy. “Not that we needed him, anyway.” The three men chuckled to themselves and Forrest clenched his fists. He wished they had found someone better to lead them. 

“Begin what? Breakfast?” Newt mumbled. “I’m starving.” 

Generals Ice and Sparks glared at Newt. The boy ignored them both and patted to the spot beside him. Forrest took the seat before the generals could make any more comments. 

Noticeably, Titus was missing. Forrest figured he was probably excluded from this discussion because he wasn’t high enough in the hierarchy or perhaps he simply didn’t want to come. Neither would be surprising. 

“I hope you’re all feeling better,” General Ice began calmly, his tone saying that he believed none of the team’s lies. 

The Generals weren’t known for their kindness. Ice and Rock were named for their lack of mercy, rather, and Sparks for his anger. They had been the leaders of the rebel faction for about a month now, and admittedly their authority had driven a victory streak in Forrest’s side. 

“We are, thank you,” Emmeline responded with a smile. She was the only one who the Generals couldn’t get mad at. She was the reason for all of this, and the Generals would be attacked by everyone if they caused her any harm. “Now, what did we miss? I hope not too much-” 

“That’s enough, Ms. Inkblot,” Sparks grumbled. “You know that none of us were fooled by your adventures. You’re lucky we don’t press punishments.” 

Emmeline looked at her lap and Forrest could feel the hatred radiating off of her. Inkblot was the nickname that the Generals had given the girl after they found out her peculiar status as a Reader. She despised it, but Forrest silently pleaded for her not to argue. 

“Of course, sir, we didn’t expect you to be fooled,” Emmeline replied quietly. 

Sparks clasped his hands, obviously pleased to be praised. Forrest bit back a retort and pushed back his urge to fight. 

“What did we miss?” Beckett repeated. Although the Generals despised Beckett, they couldn’t do much about him either. If Coral, Forrest, Newt, or Clara attempted to speak ill of the Generals, they could possibly be imprisoned. 

“Lots,” came the answer from Ice. “I’m not even going to ask where you were, if you wanted us to know, you would’ve told us. But you have a lot of catching up to do.” 

Out of all of the Generals, Forrest liked Ice the most. His frozen heart could be thawed and he respected the kids’ boundaries more than any of the other Generals did. Forrest appreciated that the man didn’t press for details. 

“What exactly did we miss?” Emmeline clarified. 

Rock cleared his throat before explaining. “We have quite a bit of news to share with you. For one, we’re finally going to play offense. In the next two days, we’ll be sending out an army to circulate through the kingdoms. They’ll be looking for recruits as well as a … special case.” 

“Special case?” Emmeline raised her eyebrows. “Do tell.” 

Rock took a moment before speaking. “We’ve heard wind of someone in the Silver Kingdom who claims to be an heir to the throne. In other words, they claim to be Beckett’s sibling.”