Restart Again: Volume 1 by Adam Scott (motivational books for women TXT) 📗

me and tried to pick up the forge hammer, giving a laughing grunt as it slowly dragged off the table. She struggled against its weight for a moment, but gave up the fight, dropping it to the ground. “Dad never wanted me to help him with his work, and I wouldn’t be very good at it anyways.” She took one of my hands in hers, her skin soft and warm. “We’re lucky you showed up.”

My face flushed as my heart swelled, and I looked away. “Nah, I’m sure you would’ve gotten along fine without me.”

She looked up at me, her face suddenly serious. “I wouldn’t want to get along without you, Elden.”

I had to bite at my lip to keep from tearing up as my emotions surged. Dropping the sword, I took both her hands in mine and pulled her close. “You’ll never have to. I’m here for the long haul, love.” We stood for a moment in silence, basking in each other’s presence. Her eyes were closed as she brushed a tear away, but she had a smile on her face.

“Good!” Amaya hopped up and kissed me on the cheek, then spun away from me towards the door. “I’ve got to go get things ready for dinner. Don’t be late, love.” She paused for a moment at the exit, looking me over, then smiled and ducked back out into the rain. I watched her as she left until I couldn’t see her through gloomy weather. My hand raised to my breast pocket, feeling the rough metal ring inside. A small grin came to my face.

“Soon.” I whispered under my breath, heading out into the rain after her.

***

6. CHANGE OF PLANS

I woke to the sound of footsteps in the hallway outside of my cell. In my groggy, still half-asleep state, it took me a few seconds to realize that there was more than one person heading towards me. One set of footfalls was familiar; heavy, even echoes of military boots, belonging to the prison guard. This time, though, it was accompanied by a light, stuttered scuffing of soft shoes, as if someone was being dragged along with him. As if to punctuate my thought, I heard the voice of my usual guard yell, “The more you resist, the worse your stay here is going to be!”

Another prisoner! The footsteps stopped for a moment, then resumed in unison, all sounds of resistance now quiet. I quietly got up from my cot and moved to sit at the back of my cell, giving myself the best view of the approaching scene without seeming overly interested. When the footsteps finally reached my field of view I was surprised to see that the prisoner being escorted by my usual guard was a small, frightened looking young woman. The pair stopped in front of my cell as the jailer worked through a ring of keys, eventually settling on one to open the door directly across from mine. He pushed her through roughly, knocking her to her knees, and without another word, locked the door and left.

The girl looked around her cell in a panic, frantically scanning her accommodations as if she would find something that would make everything alright. Unfortunately for her, the cell contained the same utilities as my own, and she soon slumped down further onto the floor in defeat. She stayed in that position for quite a while, and as time went on, I began to hear light sobbing sounds from across the hallway. This certainly is not what I was expecting from my new neighbor. 

Any preconceived notions I had about what a prisoner would look like were completely wrong in this case. Her hair, a deep black like my own, was braided neatly down to the small of her back. She was dressed in a makeshift roughspun gown, similar in composition and quality to the pants I had been given when I arrived. Her skin was a fair white, much lighter than mine, giving the impression that she didn’t often spend time in the sun. Though she was currently facing away from me, curled into a ball, the glimpse I had of her face had seemed to be of someone in their mid-twenties.

A thought suddenly shocked me. Almost in a panic, I looked down over my hands and felt the sides of my face. How...how old am I? My new companion completely forgotten, I recalled my sword to my hand and began attempting to polish it. Frustratingly, the fabric of my pants was difficult to leverage and did a poor job, and I hadn’t been given a shirt, so the idea quickly failed. Without stopping to think about it, I channeled mana to the blade and muttered, “Mirrored Reflective Blade.” The full length of the metal shimmered for a moment, and then resolved itself into a perfectly mirrored surface.

Holding my breath in anticipation I put the blade up to my face. The person looking back at me was a complete stranger. His jet-black hair was disheveled and shaggy, hanging down past his ears. Piercing grey eyes scowled under thick, defined eyebrows. He had lightly tanned skin, free of blemishes and wrinkles, and the scruff of a beard left to grow too long along his jaw. I’m...young again.

I slouched back against the stone wall, unsure of how to feel about the revelation. When I started my first new life in Alderea, I had been 27. My life in Hedaat had started five years after that, and I had never once stopped to think that my age had been changed in any way. Now, though, I knew that it had. There was a creeping sense of dread building in the back of my mind, making the hair on the back of my neck stand straight. The implications of the knowledge I had just gained were far reaching, and potentially terrifying.

No. Stop it. I shook my head and squeezed my eyes shut. Just...not now. Later. Be productive now, shut down later. After a