Tisleam

Prologue

Without a second thought, Holden darted deeper in the woods. Evergreen tree limbs thrashed in the harsh wind, attacking every inch of his exposed body.

The harsh wind sounded like a pack of wolves howling, the moon a crescent as it rose.

He knew he could make it.

And yet, he was terrified.

Heart thumping, breathing coming in short pants, Holden sprinted across the forest floor, sliding down the narrow hill. His limbs ached, Holden’s body frailed.

He fell into the wondergrot tree limbs, digging at its roots.

Darkness consumed Holden, swallowing him in one big gulp.

He was at Tislaem at last.

Chapter 1 : Headmaster.....?

The headmistress of Koda’s looked at the pale boy with an expression only a close relative could decipher. She cradled the boy as he slept, the two-year-old unknown what had happened. As the Switcher gazed over the damaged house, as it burned, fire leaped out at her, but she dodged it quickly, both her and the child in her arms safe. Silently, she cursed herself for not being able to save her friends, but it was no time to dwell on that. In her hands, she gripped the baby tighter, as it sucked on a pacifier. She knew what she’d gained and she’d lost. And she knew that this baby, Holden Forest, was the only one left of his kind. And she also knew, with dread, his trauma would not stop here.

Holden Forest awoke to cold water pouring on his twig-like body. He yelped, shooting up like a light, shaking like a dog coming in from a storm. A girl, Veronica, was standing there with two other girls, all three taller than Holden, snickering as Veronica emptied the last drop of the slushy water from her cup onto him. Holden’s eyes widened in disbelief as he fumbled with the hearing aids on his dresser, pushing them in his ear.

“Aww, is the little dwarf up?” The shortest of the three, Leah, asked, her voice ringing in Holden’s ear. It was sharp. Mocking. Teasing. Holden glared, fumbled with his hearing aids, taking them out completely, and jumped off the bed, shoving Veronica to the ground. His eyes narrowed, his smile thinly shown, and his pajamas dripping wet, soaking the wooden floorboards.

“Opps,” He mouthed, barely audible, dashing off to his bathroom. Because he was deaf, due to an accident happening when he was younger, the mistress of his orphanage had given him a private bathroom all to her own. He gasped for air, his mind panicking as it realized what happened. As Holden fumbled to make coherent thoughts, he pushed in his hearing aids, hoping that would stop the ringing in his ears. He was wet, he was soaked, and he was in the bathroom. His eyes glazed across the room, panicking when a familiar voice rang out. A gruff but gentle voice. A soothing voice. A boy’s voice.

“Hey? Holden?” The voice was concerned, on the edge of frightened for him. For some reason, maybe the lack of oxygen he needed, he couldn’t place the person in his distress but he slid to the door, knees buckled together, face buried in them as his back pressed against the door. “Holden, answer me please.”

“I-I’m here,” He whispers. He hears a small thunk and knows the man outside, whoever he is, has sat down, probably in a similar position as his, only more open and relaxed.

“Okay Holden, name five things you can see.” Holden turns in bewilderment, blinking hard. His breathing has worsened, in big, shattered gasps. The voice has so much authority and so much trust. Somehow, for some reason, he feels like he should listen to this individual.

“U-Um….a-a sink, the tub, a-a soap, paper towels, a-and a-a toilet.” He sputters out. His mind slowly calms down, and his breathing begins to even out, but it’s still sharp.

The fear is still present.

“Good.” He praised. Holden began to replace the aching in his heart with happiness, as his chest began to act accordingly. “Four things you can hear.”

“U-Um….y-you, my voice, the grill, a-and um...a...a cricket?” He gazes across the room, still stuck in mid-panic, but the soothing voice is beginning to win him over. His lips curl up in the thinnest smile as his posture relaxes, just a tiny bit.

“That's really good Holden.” The voice praises again, making him beam. He wonders who it is, who’s outside, as his mind slowly starts to make coherent thoughts. “Name three things you can touch.”

“My shirt, the tile, the wooden door.” His heart beated normally, and he was able to place who was soothing him to a natural state. It was Andrew Smithins, his best friend since forever land. Someone with who he trusted his life. Someone who he’d die for - and he wouldn’t die for a lot of people.

“Two things you smell,” It seems as if Andrew has gotten calmed down, realizing Holden was doing the same. His voice went to its normal level, not the sharp gruff one it was a few minutes ago.

“Um…” Holden thought for a moment, taking in his surroundings. His bathroom was a miniature room with an off-white toilet on his left, a small shower with a sliding door, and a blotchy yellow sink, dividing the room in two. “The soap and..um...a...pancakes?”

In response Holden gets a hearty laugh and hears Andrew shifting his body over, standing up and hand hesitating over the doorknob. He doesn’t twist it, but instead asks Holden,

“One thing you can touch.” Holden grabs the fabric of his damp shirt, hating the sticky wet feeling of it attaching to his chest. He scowls, twisting it.

“My shirt,” With that, the door opens and Holden scrambles up under the sink to avoid getting hit by its corner.

“Oh thank god,” Andrew cupped his face, bending down, knelt beside Holden. “I would’ve beaten that______”

Andrew's speech got interrupted by a loud noise, something of a bang, startling to the two. Holden gets closer into Andrew's arms, and they hold each other, Andrew's arms around his narrow waist.

BANG.

There it was again. It sounded like an earthquake, only the ground wasn't shaking, nothing was shattering, everything was secure. Both of them looked at each other with wide eyes. Taking a double-take, they got up and ran. Their mouths went agape and their eyes went wide. Holden trembled. Andrew's hands went into a fist.

“Headmaster Krea....?”

Click here for Chapter Two