Prophecy of Dragons

Chapter 5

The next morning, Aldwyn woke up to Alfred telling him he needed to go see the king at noon. Like usual, he had to prepare potions for those who were sick, deliver them, and come home to study a bit more. That morning, he had to skip his studies to see the king. He hadn't had even half of an idea what he wanted, but whatever it was, it was probably business as usual.

Aldwyn was at a table in a darkened room that only had a tad of light coming in from the opened part of the wall where bars were shoved into the stones on all sides. He was laid back, looking at the many ingredients he had put on the wooden table in front of him, all while he ate some bread. One piece was shoved into his mouth.

"Subvolo," he mumbled under the force of the food.

Aldwyn held one hand in front of a beaker that held a purple liquid. He snapped his fingers and swished them upwards, and then he took the bread from his mouth and proceeded to chew. He kept it in his left hand as he continued on.
Aldwyn's hand moved closer to the main beaker that held a few other ingredients. He twirled his fingers, allowing the beaker to spill the purple liquid into the rest of the contents. It then began to bubble softly.

"Ignis," he whispered, that time without any bread blocking his speech.

Then, the bubbling got more intense, but he didn't let it keep going for long; Aldwyn blew out the flame on top of the liquid before it could get too large.

"Perfect; just what I needed." A smile spread across his bony face, as he picked up the hot beaker and spun the contents around, and then placed it on the table to let it set completely.

Aldwyn was particularly happy on that day. He was making his way into the village, all the way to Mr. Snow's house. He used to be fond of the man as a young boy. He happened to find his nickname after continuously helping kids that were too cold on winter days. One such day occurred, where, to Aldwyn's horror, he couldn't feel his hands to get the cattle their food. He promised that the animals weren't going to starve if he stopped in and warmed his hands by the fire. Truly a man of care.

He knocked once upon the door, but no answer. He peered around to the other minuscule houses, but he wasn't anywhere to be found. The next time, he banged on the door, but still no answer.

"Where have you gone this time, old man?" Aldwyn scoffed under his breath. He cleared his throat. "Mr. Snow, are you home?" he questioned loudly.

Still no answer. In fact, there was a dreary silence over the village.
He let himself in, and threw his head back when a strong smell his his entire face, covering it. "Mr. Snow, you need to take your medicine. You need-"

He was interrupted by a horrible sight: the man, Mr. Snow, laying on his side, face turned towards the floor, in fetal position with his hands sticking out, but slightly bent. His body appeared to be blue, with slight streaks of purple.
"It."

Aldwyn dropped the bottle; luckily, it didn't break. Rushing to the man's side, he squared down and turned him over.
"Oh God," he spoke, revealing Mr. Snow's blue-tinted face.

Aldwyn heard a noise coming from outside the room, but in the house. He was worried that if someone had poisoned him, the killer was still there.

He slid to his feet whilst shaking and grabbed the broom that sat on the front wall. Walking slowly out of the doorway, he saw a figure move past, towards the front entrance of the house. That made him jump, and he swung the stick in the direction the figure ran.

"Who are you? Come out!"

He saw the door creak open. Fearing that the killed would get away, he sprinted towards the door, dropping the broom. As he approached, he saw that the figure was wearing a dark brown cloak, but that's all he could make out.
The door was right in front of him. He could almost reach out and grab it, but it was too risky. What if the door came crashing down on his arm? Aldwyn didn't think of that. He did reach out, and it did come closed on his arm.
He was pushed back by the force, causing him to fall backwards. He held his arm up, making sure he wasn't permanently harmed.