the boy who lost time

A Chapter by Hardik

THE BOY WHO LOST TIME
Vikrant ran like the bull of Yamraj was after him, another turn, another dead end, turn back and run where he could not hear feral screeching. He was getting pretty used to the pattern-run, turn back, see another wraith and run as fast as he could the other way. Rinse, repeat and survive,
However, his life was a fan of curveballs so it happened like clockwork, he turned, heard for screeches, hearing none he ran to come at a screeching halt. Standing with its back to him was a wraith, but he could still escape stealthily right? What were the chances that the wraith would turn to face him? Curveballs are a b***h and a half.
He got a full look as the creature transformed, from a shifting form of mist black smoke bled into its form and twin red embers took the place of eyes, the smoke hardened at what were supposed to be arms forming razor sharp claws,
He felt it in his bones as the beast roared at him, he staggered as the screams in his head rose to meet it. In a few seconds the beast was upon him, it swung high aiming at his head, he ducked and pirouetting behind the monster putting his back to it and braced himself,
“link” the screams crashed against him as the link bounced from him to the monster and back, he took a breath and sent his will through the link,
“push”
He shot forward, across the corridor as the wraith was pulled behind him, he turned and ran to come to another abrupt halt,
Four wraiths rose from the ground a few feet ahead of him, turning as they came up screeching and clawing up, he heard the fifth coming from behind. He spread his right hand to his side, the knife dropping into his palm, he felt his chest tremble, his heartbeat loud in his head,
He called and felt his eyes bleed from brown to a pattern of blue-green borealis and suddenly everything just fit in perfectly,
Everything took a rhythm, he felt as if the strings to reality itself unfurled before him, the wraith seemed to slow and the world lolled and dropped,
The screams receded, he felt a lopsided smile come upon him.

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His hand felt really, really hot, he blinked, his sleeve was on fire, he shook out of his trance beating out the fire.
He took in his surroundings, he stood at the mouth of the doorway, cold air blew in beating against the warmth inside, he had set the place on fire through the whole thing, how did he do that? When did that happen? How many hours had he lost this time? One, three, none of it mattered at this point.
“it’s getting worse”, the screams came again, it was not like they went anywhere they just seemed to ebb and flow. He walked out shaking ash out of his hair, he turned to look at that blazing mess and turned back to look at his audience.
the residents of the colony stood a few feet away their Gentry at their head,
kill them
if he was right about this whole thing, he would have to do just that.
he took a deep breath, put his hands in his pockets and walked towards the man he was about to murder.
the man put his hand in front of him flashing a toothy grin "well I have to say son, when they sent you, I had my doubts, but you have done us a great service."
he took the hand "how many did you kill?"
all color drained from the man’s face, "w-what are you talking about?", he tried to take his hand back but Vikrant held tight,
"the Airich knows that negative emotions create wraiths, however the exact amount is unknown, how many of those girls did you kill?"
"what in the seven hells are you talking about?"
the boy was surprised by his own speed, he kicked the back of the man’s leg pulling him downwards to his knees, simultaneously he drew his knife pulling his head back striking for the throat,
in four seconds, he realized he was going to slit the man’s throat, it took him six to stop,
a droplet of blood moved down the handle of the knife falling to the ground. he looked up to see the man still breathing, the screams a mad maelstrom in his head quietened to a dull distant thump, he took a deep breath.
"how many?" he found his voice surprisingly steady
the man at this point had become deathly pale, he spoke "59"
the colony burst into gasps and murmurs to only fall silent as a morgue by one look from the boy. he looked at the man and pulled his knife back sheathing it at his waist. "how many of you knew?"
silence, deafening utter silence,
he nodded to himself "that’s how this colony has magic, you guys don't use DUST, you siphon the excess energy from the wraiths to power your petty spells and charms, a colony of psychopaths."
"what I did was for my colony, for freedom" said the gentry
"your kind wouldn't understand what it’s like to be without it" said another
he called and immediately felt the power of the core run through him, he looked at the people his vision sharper and clearer. black strings rose from every person, it would be so easy to just...
he shook out of his stupor feeling his eyes bleed back to brown, twin streams green smoke rising out,
the crowd burst into bedlam some turned to run, snatches of monster and demon was spoken, he took a coin out of his pocket and opened his palm "push",
the coin shot out of his palm straight into the sky as the people collapsed on their hands and knees shuddering from the weight of the coin shooting through the sky,
he pointed to his eyes "these mean I don't, however it is not my understanding you should seek" he spread his arms wide as a screech came out of the burning wreckage "it’s their pity"
the wraiths shot out of the building tearing, ripping, killing. in 15 minutes, all that was left of the colony of Liara on the outskirts of Crimsonfell was a ghost town.
the wraiths disappeared one by one until only one remained, she flew towards him reaching with a clawed hand to his cheek and in a voice that sounded almost human it said "I am sorry" and then she too disappeared.
And he was left alone… "everyone is these days",
he took a deep breath as he knew what was coming now, he heard a rattling sound as he looked down on his shaking arm with the knife in it,
he fell to his knees as a wave of tremors and voices tore through him like lightning, shaking him to the very core, he felt something drip down to his chin, his nose was bleeding, he fell down on his back feeling the pain course through him,
yet this was the price he had to pay, the price of magic in the fused continent.
his eyes suddenly focused as a wave of light blasted forth in front of him, he took an unsteady step forward and stood up breathing heavily, through pain and gritted teeth he called on as his vision changed, Crimsonfell was glowing, a pillar of light shooting out into the sky, that meant one thing.
"time to go home I guess".