Story Notes:
This was, originally, a dream I had, and I've made it flesh. There will be a couple of other chapters coming, but I'm working multiple jobs, and my production is slow.Anyways, read and enjoy.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lonely Curse
Feet pounded out the front door of the small, abandoned house into the dark moonlit streets, terror fuelling the adrenaline that pushed the three boys to their physical limit as they fled. Later, they would be picked up by the police, shivering in a cold sweat and refusing to tell what had happened to them. From then on, they would be quieter, less roudy, and never, ever go near the abandoned house again.
From within the windows of the house, though, the tale was different.
She had watched them flee her abode, the place she was never allowed to leave, with a mixture of sadness and longing. She had been here so very, very long; all she wanted was a friend. Often it was weeks, even months, before someone would come by to explore the large, dilapidated building to see what kind of treasures might be hiding within, and always she would scare them off accidentally when only trying to be friendly. 'You're an idiot.' She would always scold herself. 'Why would anyone want to be friends with something like you?'
It would always drive her into fits of tears, and she would hide in the third floor bedroom. Her mournful wails scaring anyone and anything away from the dark, abandoned house.
It was halloween, and four boys stood outside the house. Two had been here before, and were extremely reluctant to return, and one was a fresh recruit into their group. This was to be the funniest initiation they would ever see. He was new to the neighbourhood, and so he didn't know about The House, or any of the believed history of the building. 'Murder House', 'House of the Walled Corpse', 'Cannibal's Graveyard'; none of the stories were pretty. The children believed that the house was the old home of some insane killer who buried his horribly tortured victims within the very walls while they were still alive to die slowly and painfully. Of course, childish imagination played in a fair amount. Those who had actually been within the dwelling were usually slightly drunk, and they would see things in the walls, usually markings on the wallpaper or graffiti in the wrong light, that looked like tortured faces to the imaginitive mind of the inquisitive youths.
Alden, the newcomer, was fifteen. Sixteen in a week or so. He was intelligent, far more than the others he was attempting to befriend. He stood about five foot three, his hair short, scruffy and a dark cinnamon colour. His eyes were distinctive; they were a powerful and vibrant purple and made him look younger than he was. He had a strong face, and he radiated his leadership qualities from fifty metres away. They had told him that, all he need do to be their friend forever, was to stay two hours in this house surrounded by overgrown weeds and untrimmed trees. Nervously he summed up the front wall of the house. Old wooden boards, bleached by the sun where the paint had peeled off long ago, four fairly large windows that were boarded up, the wooden planks used to seal the windows were also bleached and weathered. The front doors, one heavy oak, the other a rusted flyscreen door with intricate patterns adorning the frame, hung on their hinges and creaked when the wind would move them slightly. The window from the third floor, however was the creepiest of the whole building. He couldn't put his finger on why, but it was just the most disturbing feeling he had felt in a long time. It didn't glow, as some said it would on moonlit nights, nor did it have any strange, moving shadows within. It just felt, from that window;
like he was being watched.
Bravely he strode into the house with nary a backward glance, taking the others' advice and closing the door behind him to the reluctant wail of horribly rusted hinges being forced to move long after their use-by-date. He was left in dark silence, not even the moonlight managing to make it within the boarded-in house. He had been prepared for this, and he pulled a flashlight from his pocket and flicked it on, the light cutting a swathe through the inky darkness. He was astonished to find no evidence of animals. Not even Rattatas, which would willingly dwell almost anywhere. No, the house seemed as empty as he had first thought it was. Inquisitively, he walked to a far wall and knocked on it. Solid, not a hollow wooden wall like he had been expeting, but solid concrete. Whoever had originally built the house must have been wealthy indeed. With a shrug, he ventured upstairs, the hardwood steps creaking doubletime under his feet.
The second floor was much of the same. A few, empty bedrooms with naught but the curtains and bedframe, an abandoned nursury with only a crib nailed to the floor, and a bathroom with actually running water. He was impressed at that, surely the house would have been cut off years ago had someone been brave enough to go inside and check it out themselves. Now all that was left was the third floor, where he had felt... something. Gingerly he strode down the wooden hall and up the stairs, standing on the landing and grasping the doorknob.
He was met with some resistance, he expected it from the rusted hinges of the door, and eventually managed to get it open. The room was large, and seemed to be a spare bedroom. Things were up on shelves, old, dusty plush toys and dolls, an entire series of books whose names were written in golden letting on the spines, and a bed in the corner with actual sheets and coverings on it. He was a little surprised, but he figured that this room, of all of them, was forgotten when the owners left. There was a mirror near the window, and he stepped over to inspect it. He shone his torch onto it from where the moon would likely hit it, and the roof was lit up. He was pleased that he had managed to debunk that little myth, and he turned the mirror away from the window, only to find a note stuck to the back. He didn't want to touch it, the paper was ancient, as was the drawing pin that held it in place, but he carefully read it.
'If you are reading this, please meet me in the Family Room.'
Noting this down as odd, he proceeded out of the room, not bothering to close the door behind him. If he had taken the time to check, he would have discovered the ink on the note to be wet still. If he had taken time to check, he might have seen a pair of eyes looking at him from a dark corner in the room.
He hadn't taken the time to check, and the eyes developed a hopeful little smile before fading from sight.
Alden entered what was once the Family Room. A couch, old and musty, rested against the far wall, and a fireplace was present on the outer side wall of the house. Apart from the couch, which he really didn't want to sit on, there was a rickety old wooden chair. He strode across the room, barely noticing the change in temperature, and sat down. The chair creaked horribly as he sat down, and he looked about nervously. The air in this room, when he had entered, was calm and normal, but as soon as he had sat down, he felt as if something was peering over his shoulder. He flicked his torch off, not caring that he would be sitting in pitch darkness, and listened to the world around him. Air moved, foundation and wooden board creaked, and the otherwise silence of an empty house deafened him.
Until he felt the breeze.
It was cold, like it had blown from a glacier, and it swirled past him leaving him partly covered in goosebumps. A note fell from thin air, landing on his lap. He flicked on his torch and carefully read it.
'Hello.' It said. 'I would like to converse with you, please do not be afraid.'
Now he was nervous. Things didn't just spontaneously pop into existance, and he gave the room an extremely cautious look over.
'Thank you for not running away.' A calm female voice said from out of the very air. 'I do not often get visitors who stay more than ten minutes or explore the bottom floor.'
Again, Alden gave the room a terrified look over. The voice giggled.
'I can show myself, if that would make you feel less afraid?' She asked. He nodded vigorously, he could show bravery if he knew what he was up against. 'Alright.'
There was a glow in the corner of the room, near the fireplace. If Alden gave the glow enough scrutiny, he could see that it was a pair of eyes watching him intently. He shone the torchlight in their direction and illuminated a figure.
Mismagius.
Quickly he stood, adrenaline making his fear all that much more powerful. She was just watching him. That was all, just watching; possibly trying to determine whether he'd attack or flee, she even showed fear of her own, shaking slightly and her face did show her own nervousness. He collected his nerves what he could, taking a deep breath, and beckoned her forth. She smiled a little and carefully floated closer.
'Thank you for not fleeing.' She said gently, a light aura surrounding her body as she spoke.
"H-how do you-" Alden started, finally finding his own voice again.
'Speak human?' She asked, to which he nodded. 'My species are capable of psychic manipulation, over the time I have spent here, I've developed my abilities far beyond those of normal Mismagius. Not that it has done me much good, with no-one to talk with, what's the point?'
Alden considered this. "How long have you been here..?"
She seemed to consider this, moving a little bit closer so as to allow him to see her better.. 'In the counting of seasons, winter has come and gone over three hundred times.'
'Three hundred years..?' Alden thought. Now that she had drawn closer, he could see her features better. Her eyes were different, more human. Instead of being red on yellow, they were a bright green that glowed in the darkness against white. Currently, her eyes were reddened and bloodshot, like she had been crying, and her face featured many of the same telltale signs of recent depression.
"Are you alright?" He nervously asked, unsure if he really wanted to know the answer.
She shook her head. 'I've been alone for a long time.' She said. 'My morale is at an all time low, to say the least.' She sighed and stared past him at the wall. 'Everyone who has ever came here fled when I tried to be friendly, I had given up hope. I really hadn't bothered to greet you at the door, or anywhere else in the house; but when you walked into my room, I... became hopeful.'
"'Hopeful'?"
She sighed again, affixing him with a distant stare. 'Do you know how terrible it is to be alone for so long that sleep is your only reprieve? Can you fathom what it is like to terrify people you only wish to talk with? I have been trapped in this house for over three hundred seasons, able to watch the world outside but never be a part of it. All I want is to be away from the empty loneliness of this concrete tomb, but I'll never get my wish if people will not stay long enough for me to talk with them.'
Now Alden was puzzled. He had often heard that Ghost Pokemon could be kept out of hotspots, purified zones that could heal and revitalise people and their companions while keeping wild pokemon out; but keeping one in?
'All I want is a friend to talk with and keep me company.' The Mismagius said, her eyes swivelling to the floor sadly. 'But I can't leave because of that stupid deed!'
She started crying for what Alden thought was probably the second time in the day. Slowly he reached out, taking her light frame into his hands and pulling her closer. She stopped crying in shock, her eyes going wide as he embraced her, before she let herself vent into his shoulder. She was wailing loudly, the boys that were out the front had probably bolted from their fear and her loud cries. After a few minutes of this, she had calmed down, and Alden felt bold enough to talk to her.
"Tell you what;" he started, "you show me where the deed is, and I'll get you outta here. Nothing deserves this kind of torment, and after all this time, you deserve your freedom."
She sighed dismally. 'It's not that simple.' She said. 'I cannot leave this house while the Deed is here. It was a curse my first master layed on me when I disobayed him. I must dwell forever with the deed. Naturally I would live a very long time anyway, but...'
Alden gave her a friendly shake. "I can handle that rule." He said.
'How?'
"Destroy the deed." He said flatly.
She stared at the floor again. 'I... I cannot.' She said. 'I tried, once, but I cannot reach it. Some sort of barrier protects it from me.'
"A purified zone." Alden said. "Don't worry, I'll handle the deed, just take me to it."
She looked into his face at his determined grin, and smiled before nodding.
'Let's go, then!'
She led him to the master bedroom, right at the back of the second floor. There was no bed to speak of, nor any other furniture, save from a single dresser. The floor around this lone piece of wooden craftmanship was covered in strange symbols, purification writings, and he could almost see the difference in the air around the dresser. He gave a humph and stepped across the room, grabbing the dresser drawers and practically wrenching them from thier sockets. He gave a slightly confused look to the Mismagius.
"It's not here." He said.
She floated as close as she dared, staring at the now obliterated dresser in shock. 'B-but it has to be!' She almost shrieked. 'I've searched everywhere else, this is the only place it could possibly be!' Her eyes developed tears once again as she stared at the dresser dismally. 'Wh-why would he do this to me..? It's not fair! What did I do to him that would warrant this?! All I did was greet someone at the door when he had told me not to, and no harm had come of it!'
"Woah, calm down, Mismagius." Alden said, holding his hands out.
'IT'S NOT FAIR!'
Alden dove for cover as she vented her frustration, throwing a psychic attack at the dresser. The wooden structure stood strong, however, and the attack simply bounced off of the purified barrier, smashing into the nearby concrete wall and causing a small crater in the artificial rock. Now completley spent of her anger she sobbed heavily.
'It's not...'
Alden moved back across the room to her, reaching out to hold her in another embrace. He kicked one of the drawers of the dresser as he moved, and it gave an odd clunk. He stopped, confused, and kicked the drawer again. The sound that it gave was, if anything, slightly hollow, and even had the odd sound of wood moving against wood, even though the floor was carpeted. He knelt down and picked it up, inspecting it critically, before reaching in and pulling out a flat board of wood. Beneath, yellowing slightly but with its writing perfectly preserved, was the deed. With slightly trembling fingers, he put the false bottom on the floor and gently lifted the paper from the drawer. He held it up triumphantly, putting the drawer on the floor next to him.
"Mismagius, look what I've got." He said in a slightly smug tone.
She didn't look over at him, still staring at the floor dismally. 'I don't care.' She said.
"Oh? You don't?"
'No.'
"So you dragged me up here to find this for no reason?" He asked.
Slowly she turned, her eyes now wide, and stared at the deed in his hand. Her mouth waved pointlessly as she stared at him, gabbling silently to herself.
"Didn't you want me to destroy this for you, hmmm?" Alden asked in the same tone used against children who want something that their parents are tormenting them with playfully. He pulled a lighter from his pocket, a metal Zippo lighter with intricate flame images painted onto it. He flicked the lid off and held it under the parchment. "Are you sure this is what you want?" He asked.
She stared at him with a look of astonishment. 'Trapped in an empty house for over three hundred years..!' She said. 'I would do anything to leave, even if that means breaking the final tie with my last master. I want my freedom back, please don't deny me the right to leave this empty hole!'
Alden smiled and flicked the lighter on, allowing its flame to catch the paper and start it burning. "With this, I grant you your freedom."
He held the paper as it burned until he risked burning his fingers, then tossed it into the air. The flames consumed the old, dry parchment in a heartbeat, and only black ashes fell around him. She had just watched him in astonishment the whole time, and when only ashes remained around them, she moved forward and threw herself against him.
'I feel as if a huge weight has been lifted.' She mumbled. 'I don't think I can ever repay you.'
Alden only smiled and stroked her back gently. "And you'll never have to." He quietly replied. "But, it's just a thought, do you have any ideas on what you're going to do now? You've been trapped in here for over three hundred years, the world has changed in that time."
She seemed to stop and consider this thoroughly. 'I'd not actually thought that far ahead.' She admitted. 'I... just wanted to get out of here.'
Alden pushed her off of him gently and looked at her face kindly. "Then how about this;" he started, "you come with me, live with me and my family. I'll take care of you and socialise you with all my friends and family, and in return you stay with me. I'll take you to school and introduce you to my history teacher, I'm sure there is a fair amount that you could teach him about three hundred years ago." He gave her what he was hoping was a hopeful face. "What do you say, Mismagius?"
She stared at him, almost in disbelief, before starting to cry again and throwing herself back over his shoulder. He gave a slighly exasperated face, at this rate, she was going to wear through his shirt.
'I'm called Dusana.' She said. 'And there is nothing I want more!'
"Well, Dusana, I'm Alden." He wrapped his arms around her again as he spoke, brushing his cheek against hers. "And welcome to the family."
From within the windows of the house, though, the tale was different.
She had watched them flee her abode, the place she was never allowed to leave, with a mixture of sadness and longing. She had been here so very, very long; all she wanted was a friend. Often it was weeks, even months, before someone would come by to explore the large, dilapidated building to see what kind of treasures might be hiding within, and always she would scare them off accidentally when only trying to be friendly. 'You're an idiot.' She would always scold herself. 'Why would anyone want to be friends with something like you?'
It would always drive her into fits of tears, and she would hide in the third floor bedroom. Her mournful wails scaring anyone and anything away from the dark, abandoned house.
It was halloween, and four boys stood outside the house. Two had been here before, and were extremely reluctant to return, and one was a fresh recruit into their group. This was to be the funniest initiation they would ever see. He was new to the neighbourhood, and so he didn't know about The House, or any of the believed history of the building. 'Murder House', 'House of the Walled Corpse', 'Cannibal's Graveyard'; none of the stories were pretty. The children believed that the house was the old home of some insane killer who buried his horribly tortured victims within the very walls while they were still alive to die slowly and painfully. Of course, childish imagination played in a fair amount. Those who had actually been within the dwelling were usually slightly drunk, and they would see things in the walls, usually markings on the wallpaper or graffiti in the wrong light, that looked like tortured faces to the imaginitive mind of the inquisitive youths.
Alden, the newcomer, was fifteen. Sixteen in a week or so. He was intelligent, far more than the others he was attempting to befriend. He stood about five foot three, his hair short, scruffy and a dark cinnamon colour. His eyes were distinctive; they were a powerful and vibrant purple and made him look younger than he was. He had a strong face, and he radiated his leadership qualities from fifty metres away. They had told him that, all he need do to be their friend forever, was to stay two hours in this house surrounded by overgrown weeds and untrimmed trees. Nervously he summed up the front wall of the house. Old wooden boards, bleached by the sun where the paint had peeled off long ago, four fairly large windows that were boarded up, the wooden planks used to seal the windows were also bleached and weathered. The front doors, one heavy oak, the other a rusted flyscreen door with intricate patterns adorning the frame, hung on their hinges and creaked when the wind would move them slightly. The window from the third floor, however was the creepiest of the whole building. He couldn't put his finger on why, but it was just the most disturbing feeling he had felt in a long time. It didn't glow, as some said it would on moonlit nights, nor did it have any strange, moving shadows within. It just felt, from that window;
like he was being watched.
Bravely he strode into the house with nary a backward glance, taking the others' advice and closing the door behind him to the reluctant wail of horribly rusted hinges being forced to move long after their use-by-date. He was left in dark silence, not even the moonlight managing to make it within the boarded-in house. He had been prepared for this, and he pulled a flashlight from his pocket and flicked it on, the light cutting a swathe through the inky darkness. He was astonished to find no evidence of animals. Not even Rattatas, which would willingly dwell almost anywhere. No, the house seemed as empty as he had first thought it was. Inquisitively, he walked to a far wall and knocked on it. Solid, not a hollow wooden wall like he had been expeting, but solid concrete. Whoever had originally built the house must have been wealthy indeed. With a shrug, he ventured upstairs, the hardwood steps creaking doubletime under his feet.
The second floor was much of the same. A few, empty bedrooms with naught but the curtains and bedframe, an abandoned nursury with only a crib nailed to the floor, and a bathroom with actually running water. He was impressed at that, surely the house would have been cut off years ago had someone been brave enough to go inside and check it out themselves. Now all that was left was the third floor, where he had felt... something. Gingerly he strode down the wooden hall and up the stairs, standing on the landing and grasping the doorknob.
He was met with some resistance, he expected it from the rusted hinges of the door, and eventually managed to get it open. The room was large, and seemed to be a spare bedroom. Things were up on shelves, old, dusty plush toys and dolls, an entire series of books whose names were written in golden letting on the spines, and a bed in the corner with actual sheets and coverings on it. He was a little surprised, but he figured that this room, of all of them, was forgotten when the owners left. There was a mirror near the window, and he stepped over to inspect it. He shone his torch onto it from where the moon would likely hit it, and the roof was lit up. He was pleased that he had managed to debunk that little myth, and he turned the mirror away from the window, only to find a note stuck to the back. He didn't want to touch it, the paper was ancient, as was the drawing pin that held it in place, but he carefully read it.
'If you are reading this, please meet me in the Family Room.'
Noting this down as odd, he proceeded out of the room, not bothering to close the door behind him. If he had taken the time to check, he would have discovered the ink on the note to be wet still. If he had taken time to check, he might have seen a pair of eyes looking at him from a dark corner in the room.
He hadn't taken the time to check, and the eyes developed a hopeful little smile before fading from sight.
Alden entered what was once the Family Room. A couch, old and musty, rested against the far wall, and a fireplace was present on the outer side wall of the house. Apart from the couch, which he really didn't want to sit on, there was a rickety old wooden chair. He strode across the room, barely noticing the change in temperature, and sat down. The chair creaked horribly as he sat down, and he looked about nervously. The air in this room, when he had entered, was calm and normal, but as soon as he had sat down, he felt as if something was peering over his shoulder. He flicked his torch off, not caring that he would be sitting in pitch darkness, and listened to the world around him. Air moved, foundation and wooden board creaked, and the otherwise silence of an empty house deafened him.
Until he felt the breeze.
It was cold, like it had blown from a glacier, and it swirled past him leaving him partly covered in goosebumps. A note fell from thin air, landing on his lap. He flicked on his torch and carefully read it.
'Hello.' It said. 'I would like to converse with you, please do not be afraid.'
Now he was nervous. Things didn't just spontaneously pop into existance, and he gave the room an extremely cautious look over.
'Thank you for not running away.' A calm female voice said from out of the very air. 'I do not often get visitors who stay more than ten minutes or explore the bottom floor.'
Again, Alden gave the room a terrified look over. The voice giggled.
'I can show myself, if that would make you feel less afraid?' She asked. He nodded vigorously, he could show bravery if he knew what he was up against. 'Alright.'
There was a glow in the corner of the room, near the fireplace. If Alden gave the glow enough scrutiny, he could see that it was a pair of eyes watching him intently. He shone the torchlight in their direction and illuminated a figure.
Mismagius.
Quickly he stood, adrenaline making his fear all that much more powerful. She was just watching him. That was all, just watching; possibly trying to determine whether he'd attack or flee, she even showed fear of her own, shaking slightly and her face did show her own nervousness. He collected his nerves what he could, taking a deep breath, and beckoned her forth. She smiled a little and carefully floated closer.
'Thank you for not fleeing.' She said gently, a light aura surrounding her body as she spoke.
"H-how do you-" Alden started, finally finding his own voice again.
'Speak human?' She asked, to which he nodded. 'My species are capable of psychic manipulation, over the time I have spent here, I've developed my abilities far beyond those of normal Mismagius. Not that it has done me much good, with no-one to talk with, what's the point?'
Alden considered this. "How long have you been here..?"
She seemed to consider this, moving a little bit closer so as to allow him to see her better.. 'In the counting of seasons, winter has come and gone over three hundred times.'
'Three hundred years..?' Alden thought. Now that she had drawn closer, he could see her features better. Her eyes were different, more human. Instead of being red on yellow, they were a bright green that glowed in the darkness against white. Currently, her eyes were reddened and bloodshot, like she had been crying, and her face featured many of the same telltale signs of recent depression.
"Are you alright?" He nervously asked, unsure if he really wanted to know the answer.
She shook her head. 'I've been alone for a long time.' She said. 'My morale is at an all time low, to say the least.' She sighed and stared past him at the wall. 'Everyone who has ever came here fled when I tried to be friendly, I had given up hope. I really hadn't bothered to greet you at the door, or anywhere else in the house; but when you walked into my room, I... became hopeful.'
"'Hopeful'?"
She sighed again, affixing him with a distant stare. 'Do you know how terrible it is to be alone for so long that sleep is your only reprieve? Can you fathom what it is like to terrify people you only wish to talk with? I have been trapped in this house for over three hundred seasons, able to watch the world outside but never be a part of it. All I want is to be away from the empty loneliness of this concrete tomb, but I'll never get my wish if people will not stay long enough for me to talk with them.'
Now Alden was puzzled. He had often heard that Ghost Pokemon could be kept out of hotspots, purified zones that could heal and revitalise people and their companions while keeping wild pokemon out; but keeping one in?
'All I want is a friend to talk with and keep me company.' The Mismagius said, her eyes swivelling to the floor sadly. 'But I can't leave because of that stupid deed!'
She started crying for what Alden thought was probably the second time in the day. Slowly he reached out, taking her light frame into his hands and pulling her closer. She stopped crying in shock, her eyes going wide as he embraced her, before she let herself vent into his shoulder. She was wailing loudly, the boys that were out the front had probably bolted from their fear and her loud cries. After a few minutes of this, she had calmed down, and Alden felt bold enough to talk to her.
"Tell you what;" he started, "you show me where the deed is, and I'll get you outta here. Nothing deserves this kind of torment, and after all this time, you deserve your freedom."
She sighed dismally. 'It's not that simple.' She said. 'I cannot leave this house while the Deed is here. It was a curse my first master layed on me when I disobayed him. I must dwell forever with the deed. Naturally I would live a very long time anyway, but...'
Alden gave her a friendly shake. "I can handle that rule." He said.
'How?'
"Destroy the deed." He said flatly.
She stared at the floor again. 'I... I cannot.' She said. 'I tried, once, but I cannot reach it. Some sort of barrier protects it from me.'
"A purified zone." Alden said. "Don't worry, I'll handle the deed, just take me to it."
She looked into his face at his determined grin, and smiled before nodding.
'Let's go, then!'
She led him to the master bedroom, right at the back of the second floor. There was no bed to speak of, nor any other furniture, save from a single dresser. The floor around this lone piece of wooden craftmanship was covered in strange symbols, purification writings, and he could almost see the difference in the air around the dresser. He gave a humph and stepped across the room, grabbing the dresser drawers and practically wrenching them from thier sockets. He gave a slightly confused look to the Mismagius.
"It's not here." He said.
She floated as close as she dared, staring at the now obliterated dresser in shock. 'B-but it has to be!' She almost shrieked. 'I've searched everywhere else, this is the only place it could possibly be!' Her eyes developed tears once again as she stared at the dresser dismally. 'Wh-why would he do this to me..? It's not fair! What did I do to him that would warrant this?! All I did was greet someone at the door when he had told me not to, and no harm had come of it!'
"Woah, calm down, Mismagius." Alden said, holding his hands out.
'IT'S NOT FAIR!'
Alden dove for cover as she vented her frustration, throwing a psychic attack at the dresser. The wooden structure stood strong, however, and the attack simply bounced off of the purified barrier, smashing into the nearby concrete wall and causing a small crater in the artificial rock. Now completley spent of her anger she sobbed heavily.
'It's not...'
Alden moved back across the room to her, reaching out to hold her in another embrace. He kicked one of the drawers of the dresser as he moved, and it gave an odd clunk. He stopped, confused, and kicked the drawer again. The sound that it gave was, if anything, slightly hollow, and even had the odd sound of wood moving against wood, even though the floor was carpeted. He knelt down and picked it up, inspecting it critically, before reaching in and pulling out a flat board of wood. Beneath, yellowing slightly but with its writing perfectly preserved, was the deed. With slightly trembling fingers, he put the false bottom on the floor and gently lifted the paper from the drawer. He held it up triumphantly, putting the drawer on the floor next to him.
"Mismagius, look what I've got." He said in a slightly smug tone.
She didn't look over at him, still staring at the floor dismally. 'I don't care.' She said.
"Oh? You don't?"
'No.'
"So you dragged me up here to find this for no reason?" He asked.
Slowly she turned, her eyes now wide, and stared at the deed in his hand. Her mouth waved pointlessly as she stared at him, gabbling silently to herself.
"Didn't you want me to destroy this for you, hmmm?" Alden asked in the same tone used against children who want something that their parents are tormenting them with playfully. He pulled a lighter from his pocket, a metal Zippo lighter with intricate flame images painted onto it. He flicked the lid off and held it under the parchment. "Are you sure this is what you want?" He asked.
She stared at him with a look of astonishment. 'Trapped in an empty house for over three hundred years..!' She said. 'I would do anything to leave, even if that means breaking the final tie with my last master. I want my freedom back, please don't deny me the right to leave this empty hole!'
Alden smiled and flicked the lighter on, allowing its flame to catch the paper and start it burning. "With this, I grant you your freedom."
He held the paper as it burned until he risked burning his fingers, then tossed it into the air. The flames consumed the old, dry parchment in a heartbeat, and only black ashes fell around him. She had just watched him in astonishment the whole time, and when only ashes remained around them, she moved forward and threw herself against him.
'I feel as if a huge weight has been lifted.' She mumbled. 'I don't think I can ever repay you.'
Alden only smiled and stroked her back gently. "And you'll never have to." He quietly replied. "But, it's just a thought, do you have any ideas on what you're going to do now? You've been trapped in here for over three hundred years, the world has changed in that time."
She seemed to stop and consider this thoroughly. 'I'd not actually thought that far ahead.' She admitted. 'I... just wanted to get out of here.'
Alden pushed her off of him gently and looked at her face kindly. "Then how about this;" he started, "you come with me, live with me and my family. I'll take care of you and socialise you with all my friends and family, and in return you stay with me. I'll take you to school and introduce you to my history teacher, I'm sure there is a fair amount that you could teach him about three hundred years ago." He gave her what he was hoping was a hopeful face. "What do you say, Mismagius?"
She stared at him, almost in disbelief, before starting to cry again and throwing herself back over his shoulder. He gave a slighly exasperated face, at this rate, she was going to wear through his shirt.
'I'm called Dusana.' She said. 'And there is nothing I want more!'
"Well, Dusana, I'm Alden." He wrapped his arms around her again as he spoke, brushing his cheek against hers. "And welcome to the family."