The Art of Forgiveness

Moonlight Contained (Past 4)

Marc knew very well that he was breaking a lot of rules by staying with Merlon and reading through the large book, but once he started reading, he couldn't seem to stop. He read through the pages significantly faster than Merlon, so he had to wait thirty seconds or so for Merlon to catch up and turn the page each time. According to Merlon, the book was called the Light Prognosticus. Marc immediately recognized the name, knowing that the Tribe of Darkness had its counterpart, the Dark Prognosticus.

Marc knew very well that the Dark Prognosticus was technically made first, and the Light Prognosticus he was currently reading from was written later to try to counter it. Where he was from, no one was allowed to even touch the Dark Prognosticus for reasons that he still wasn't quite sure of, so it was somewhat surprising that he and Merlon were reading this book so casually.

The pages were filled with stories and legends. Some small, others much bigger. There wasn't just one prophecy, but hundreds. Each foretold different heroes of light rising to defeat evil. Some were normal people, others were beyond powerful. While some of the legends almost seemed ridiculous, (what on earth is a void, and why is it trying to eat everything?) they were all still charming in their own ways.

At the end of the day, they were nothing more than stories. Stories that someone had written long ago.

Everything in the Light Prognosticus seemed so pure. The stories were all heroic and inspiring. Everything seemed so different from the world he had grown up in. In most stories, the Tribe of Darkness weren't even painted as the villains like Marc expected them to be. The Tribe of Darkness ALWAYS spoke ill of the Tribe of Ancients and painted them as the bad guys in their stories. Never in a story that Marc had written, of course. Not that he had ever actually finished a book, but whenever he did try to write, he would avoid topics like the war. He didn't like painting entire groups of people as villains. It didn't seem morally correct.

"Have you read this before?" Marc found himself asking Merlon while waiting for Merlon to catch up so he could turn the page. He looked up at the blonde, his silver eyes brimming with curiosity.

Merlon shook his head no, still keeping his eyes down on the book. "This is my first time actually reading through it," he admitted. "However, I have heard most of the tales through my companions. They talk and discuss the legends quite frequently. Honestly, it almost gets annoying sometimes."

"Annoying?" Marc questioned.

"Yeah," Merlon chuckled, closing the book, which made Marc slightly sad. They weren't anywhere close to completely finishing it. They had only read through thirteen different legends. "Annoying. I mean, I love the stories, but its something about their tone when they talk to me. Most of them are significantly older than me, so they talk to me with this strange, almost degrading tone, as if I'm still a child."

"Perhaps that's because you're short," Marc stated, before slapping both of his hands over his mouth, wishing he could take back his words.

He internally kicked himself for saying something so rude. Why couldn't he control his words?! Why couldn't he just be normal? "I'm sorry!" He quickly exclaimed. "I'm so sorry, that was incredibly rude, and I didn't mean that. I can't control what I'm saying. I'm sorry!"

Merlon wasn't insulted or angry, however. Instead, he burst into laughter much louder and more genuine than before. He hugged his stomach and closed his eyes, his face scrunched up and his smile bright.

"Is brutal honestly a common quality of people from your tribe?" Merlon asked, his words being partially interrupted by his own laughter.

"No," Marc muttered quietly, feeling awkward and nervous. "Just me, I suppose..."