Dear Brother

Chapter Five: Dreams

"Sylnan! Sylnan!" Shouts pulled Sylnan from his thoughts. A little half-elf pushed through the doors of the room the Rat King had let them stay in. He held something above his head.

"Br'aad? What's wrong?" Sylnan rushed forwards to the little boy.

"I got a book!" He jumped up and down, waving around what he had held above his head. He sat down onto the floor, opening the pages. He tapped the ground next to him. Sylnan reluctantly dumped himself on the filthy floors.

"Who got you that?" Sylnan looked down at the pictures. They depicted two older
brothers who looked much like Sylnan and Br'aad. He pulled it from his little brother's hands. He pointed down at scribbles of words he couldn't read. "What does that say?"

Br'aad peered down at the book. "It says 'Two half-elf brothers talked hap- happy-ly-- happily, finally meeting each other again.'"

Br'aad carefully flipped the page. A drawing of the brother who looked like Br'aad showing off characters who looked very much like the three other fated. "The yo- younger brother had made friends."

The page was turned. Sylnan jerked back, staring at the page before him. The picture showed Sylnan stabbed through the chest, a blue orc smiling as Br'aad cries over his body. "Then, the older of the two died. The younger one wanted to get him back."

The next page. "He traveled the lands to get him back with his friends."

Br'aad's young hands turned the page. It showed the Br'aad killing a figure who looked very much like Brendon while Sylnan rises from the grave. "A life for a life goes both ways."

The other side of the page depicted Sylnan getting stabbed through the neck as Brendon or Aylwn rose from the grave.

Br'aad's voice sounded older now, purple tattoos crossed his skin as his young green eyes changed to purple. "A life for a life."

Sylnan felt the knife nearing his neck.

He shot up, breathing heavy, a cold sweat covered his skin. It was just a dream, just a dream. Br'aad was fine-- no. No he wasn't. Ob'nocksahi had him twisted around his finger, and Br'aad was holding on. Sylnan needed to get Br'aad back. He needed his little brother.

His body still was sore all over from the fall, but much more functional thanks to Octavius's little mushroom boys.

He looked around the blank room the doctor had paid for. He threw his head back onto the pillow, twisting to see out the window. It was dawn, a new day would come.
And he would bring Br'aad back.

He needed to know how to break a bond between patron and deity. But there was an issue, Sylnan couldn't read. He'd prefer to keep this to himself and suffer through useless picture books but he needed his brother back.

Sylnan dressed in his still dirtied clothes and got himself ready for the busy day ahead, careful not to be too violent on the still tender areas of his bruised bones.

The doctor sat quietly at a table in the tavern. He sipped a warm drink, his glasses at the edge of his nose as he read something.

"Octavius?" Sylnan cleared his throat as he limped over to a seat at the table. The man looked up at him, worried in his eyes.

"Did you get enough rest?" Sylnan rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, sure. I need a favor."

"Another one?"

Sylnan gave a sigh, "I need you to do some research for me."

"About what?"

"How to destroy a person's connection with their deity."

Octavius looked at him curiously, "So Br'aad is being controlled by a deity then."

"No... well, yes.... actually, maybe."

"I'll do it. But, I need you to do something for me."

Sylnan nodded, willing him to continue.

"Relax and let yourself heal."

Sylnan frowned as Octivius smiled. He didn't have time to rest and heal, he needed to know if Hilltree was okay, if Br'aad could be saved.

"Fine, fine. Just hurry."

Octivius gave a smile before excusing himself to the library. Sylnan sat along at the table for a few moments. He was still caked in blood, he recalled still having a few coins on him, maybe he could clean off in a bath house or something. He limped out of the building, eyes flickered over to him as he walked the streets to a river he had seen earlier in the week.

Looking around to check no one was following him, he cleaned off himself and his clothes in the waters.

Some crusty blood still stuck to his skin but he was mostly clean. The only issue now, besides Br'aad being a possible murderer and out to kill him and that his whole side was still in a little pain, was that his clothes were wet.

In his soggy blood stained clothes, he went back to the inn and climbed up the steps to the room he remembered being his.

Sylnan set his clothes to dry on a window sill. He shivered, it was freezing. He wrapped himself in the lonely blanket in his room, taking a nap and waiting for them to dry.

The sun was much higher in the sky now, it was probably an hour or two after he had put the clothes on the window. They were still a little soggy but they would dry over time.

He slowly paced around the room. What should he do? If he could read, he would read a book. If he could walk, he would go for a jog. But he couldn't do anything. He peered out the window, looking out onto the crowds of people wondering about. Few caught his eye.

This reminded him much of the orphanage. Somedays, the boys weren't allowed outside. So, Sylnan would watch the people from their small windows.

He'd tell Br'aad stories of those passing below. Br'aad would always laugh or smile when he told them. Sylnan missed that. He missed his brother.

But someone who passed by stared straight back at him. Green eyes flashing purple.