𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘. 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.
It's the beginning of a new age when Jaylah Imperatrix seemingly returns from the dead to reclaim her throne. And in perfect timing.
In her absence, evil has be...
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Act 3 Chapter 55 JAYLAH
We had made it as far as Dubrolski, but would have to stop there for the night. We kept a look out for inns with openings amongst the many cafés readying for dinner. A cry pierced the air, temporarily drawing my attention away.
I hoped to move past the crying child that was clearly lost on the side of the street, but it was too late. The boy's misty blue eyes locked with mine. Before I knew it, he was reaching out for my leg with pudgy, uncoordinated hands. I resisted the innate urge to shake him off. It was just a child, I reminded myself.
Alexander and I simultaneously moved to stare down at the simpering child. He could not have been older than three. Had his parents left him here? I did not know how to deal with young people; my own parents raised us to be adults in childrens' bodies. And I found it difficult to communicate with those of less evolved intelligence.
"I am unaware how to take this turn of events," I said aloud to Alexander, hoping he was less uncomfortable than I was.
But he shrugged. "Hell if I know. Kids are so fucking—"
"Do not use language like that around a child." I bent to see the boy's tearstained face. "What is your name?"
The boy gave no response. Excellent. "Guess we have to take him with us," Alexander said, shaking his head as if that was the most obvious answer.
Rolling my eyes, I fixated my attention on fronting my falsest saccharine voice. "If you can describe your parents, perhaps we can locate them in the crowd together."
"Don't you know anything? You don't talk to a child like that," Alexander chastised. "You're eloquent to a fault. Let me try."
Stepping over so that he towered over the boy, he put his hand on the boy's shoulder. I thought he might try to shake him around or teach him unsavory words, but instead all he said was, "If you tell me your name, I'll steal you sweets."
The child looked up at him with wide eyes, blinked a few times, and crumpled into confused crying once more. Alexander threw up his hands in a quitting gesture.
"Jean-Luc?" came a frantic woman's voice. "Jean-Luc, is that you?"
A beautiful woman with light brown hair tied back from her face with a blue scarf crossed the street as fast as the heels on her shoes allowed for. Behind her trailed a short, graying man who had to be her father, judging by the similarity in their looks.
"Thank the Gods," the woman said, putting a shaking hand to her mouth in relief. When the child was safely in her arms, she turned to us. "We were out shopping, you know, for the upcoming celebrations, and he must have wandered off." Looking down, she brushed away a sliding tear from the boy's porcelain skin. "I am so grateful you kept my son safe. With crowds like these, who knows what could have happened?"
