For this story we will need to go back in time. Not a year or two ago, not ten years ago, not even a hundred years ago. We need to go back one thousand years, to the time that elves and dwarves were still alive, to when the great dragons still soared high in the air, to a castle of a forgotten kingdom in a forgotten place, wiped out of all maps. Why would someone go through such great precautions to erase something, being so through as to kill anyone who knew? Maybe I’ll tell you, maybe not, I’m not sure if it is time for you to hear the story of the forgotten mage. One question you all may be thinking, if this story was erased from history, how do you know it? Well I’ll tell you, I can tell you the story because I am the daughter of The Forgotten Mage, I am in this story. Father told me that he erased my memory of that …show more content…
To my surprise the castle was in very good shape, despite looking to be abandoned for years. I unrolled my sleeping mat and fell asleep in the great hall. My dreams were dark that night, full of blood and monsters, but to all that there was complete silence, creatures would open their mouths to below and scream at me, but no sound came our, but their was two sounds, a scraping sound underneath me and a dripping sound coming above. I awoke to a drop of rain that must have leaked through the roof. I reached up to wipe the drop from my forehead, it was thick, too thick, I knew that feeling, I was intimate with that feeling, it was the feeling of ultimate horror, it was the feeling of death, red, liquid death. I dove to my pack and lit the torch. It was a mistake, all around me was blood, the walls were covered with the bloody streaks of clawing hands, I looked down, my hands were bloody. Why were my hands bloody? And why were my fingernails torn up, like I had been clawing at something all