Changed - A Lysander Corvax Tale

By Alexander Corvax All Rights Reserved ©

Fantasy / Drama


Five days of near constant soup, minor potions and strange yet soothing recovery sleep, provided me the energy to at last have healed enough to emerge out of bed unaided and shambled over to the lounge room for some free Television. Our new sofa was a dead ringer for the old accept it looked fresher and stank of citrus for some reason yet it was comfortable and functional so I sat down and prepared myself for hours of mindless escapism to forget about my dreams and what that now meant for me.

A small pile of letters had been tossed on the side table, clearly by Darren who always left me to read such things with him or for him as he never liked post unless it had just specifically delivered him an axe or something. Channel flicking out of boredom I shrugged and took the small pile to sort through. Bills, bills, favours, ooh free membership, bills and finally a letter. As far as letters go it was bland and no stamps adorning tis surface. It simply had “To Mr Michaelson” printed across it without the usual flare for the dramatic I was sued to in writers which made me interested. I grabbed a pair of scissors and used them to cut open the letter so the contents would spill out. The sound of metal hitting wood accompanied a card which fluttered out from the envelope.

Blank and devoid of any decorations or tells as to who sent it so naturally I turned it over for a read. Realisation dawned on me and I dropped the letter as if it were an adder which revealed the metal item beneath laying there accusingly at me. How did they of all people know and why now when things were just already far too interesting and I had finally done some good why now! Lysander I know where you are and what you have done. We need to talk. Sincerely your fiancée Uliana. P.S I delivered this to remind you of your oath to me. My engagement ring a metal eagle reaching for the sky lay there after five years of disuse when I had abandoned it with my belongings as I fled to new lands. My ring finger itched nervously as my future lay before me meaning I was going to need to talk to my fiancée, and I had only just began to have pleasant dreams again.

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