Side Split

Breaking Connection

I run down the stairs of the prison, tripping down the last five steps and grazing my arms and knees in the process. I ignore the pain as it makes itself known, knowing I need to get to my house as quickly as possible. The more time I take to get there, the more time the leader has to surge through our army.

The streets are barren but I can see lights on in houses where some people will be seeking refuge from the gunshots and roars which are coming from the north side of the city. The sound is eerie in comparison to the lack of life which seems to be in the city at the moment. I soldier on through the backstreets of the city for what feels like an eternity before I reach my house. The door is locked, not budging even when I try to smash my shoulder into it, causing more pain to shoot through my body. "Damnit," I say to myself, looking around for something I can use to break through the door. All I need to do is get in there, I don't care about how I do it now. I spot a pitchfork lying on the ground against the side of the house and go to pick it up. I'm just about to grab it and drive it into the door when I hear the door being unlocked, clicking and swinging open to reveal an old woman. She stands shocked as I hold the pitchfork, the prongs directly pointed at her chest.

 Hastily, I put the pitchfork down. "Sorry, I didn't think anyone lived here," I say, looking stumbling over my words.

"Oh, it's alright dear," the woman replies, she has a raspy voice. "I don't tend to visit here. Just figured I'd check in on how the old place was holding up at the moment." She is speaking slowly, much too slowly for my liking in the current situation.

"Do you know if there is a book in this house?" I say, unsure how to describe it, the appearance of it never occurred to be significant to me for some reason.

The woman shrugs her shoulders, "I can't help you with that, there are many books in this house."

I search my mind for words to try to jog her memory on the book I'm looking for, coming to little success. "It's a book which I think was left here by the previous owners of the house. There are some weird symbols in it."

"I remember some things being left here by the man who left the house to me." She potters off into her house in search of it. I follow her, seeing the exact house I grew up in as I enter the living room. "Very nice man he was, said his wife had gone somewhere else and he needed a new place to live so he could forget about this city," the woman continues rambling in the background as I take in the nostalgic surroundings. "He was very keen to leave so gave me this house and I let him have a place to stay in another city. Tell me, how do you know something was left in this house?"

"I don't know," I say absentmindedly, "I'm just hoping it's still here from when I lived here."

"That's interesting," the woman says, "the man mentioned something about having a kid at some point but said they were lost." I'm barely listening to her as she shuffles through a stack of books, all I'm focused on is the pleasure of being back here, even if it is for a few minutes. "Ah, I think I've found some of the books the man left."

She hands me a tattered, thick book, half the cover is falling off and the edges of the pages look like they've been eaten by moths. I open the book to the first page which contains a table of contents.

Table of Contents

1. Basic Light

2. Art of Control

3. Pathway through Dimensions

4. Combining Light

5. Dealing Damage