The Secret of Spellshadow Manor 2 by Bella Forrest (top ten ebook reader .TXT) 📗

red plastic. The younger Alex snatched up the magnifying glass and unfolded the booklet onto the first page to reveal a blue, red, and white pattern dotted across the sheet. As the smaller version of himself held the magnifying glass up to his curious eye, the pattern shifted, revealing the words Merry Christmas. The Alex in his memory whooped in delight at the neat trick.

It seemed like a random, useless memory, until it gave the present Alex an idea.

Scanning the room, he made sure he was alone as he pressed the notebook flat on the covers of the bed. Certain that he was, he allowed his anti-magic to flow slowly into the palms of his hands before stretching it into a thin square of glittering black-and-silver energy, much like the shielding spell he had tried the other day but far smaller, held in the space between his palms. A thrill of excitement coursed through him as he lowered the screen of anti-magic over the top of the notebook, like his younger self had done with the red magnifying glass.

Beneath the glittering square, the symbols sprang to life, each sketch spreading across the page in a series of sentences and diagrams and bullet points. There was no real structure to the writing itself, but the screen permitted him to see it as it had been intended. It was a scrappy sort of journal, really, with thoughts jotted down as they had come to the writer. Sometimes, the work was dated. Other times, it was not.

Alex had to re-conjure the screen every time he wanted to turn the page, but what he saw made his eyes go wide in fascination. The work was written by an actual Spellbreaker. It was a fact Alex already knew, but the information within was designed specifically for Spellbreakers. A true first for Alex. It was like a well-fitting shoe after years of wearing a too-small boot.

On some pages, there were lists of spells and what they were used for. Others told of control techniques, to make the best out of anti-magic abilities—actual, specific instructions on attack and defense methods and how to forge anti-magical weaponry that could be thrown or maintained in a duel. It was all aimed at his kind. There was no figuring out necessary; the words were right there, in bluish-green, on the page, spelling it out.

Though Alex had discovered how to form certain types of weaponry, the notebook described kinds he had never seen before, some of them positively medieval. There was a delicate sketch showing an anti-magical longbow and arrows, with a side note that it was often far more effort than it was worth. Another showed a spiked mace and a double-edged axe, though Alex thought those looked a bit too vicious for his liking.

Just having the notebook in his hands, with the humorous side notes and inner monologue of the writer, Alex felt slightly less alone. It was the most tangible relic of Spellbreaker heritage he had come in contact with, and it soothed a dull ache within the caverns of his heart.

He devoured the book quicker than he had the Battles tome. Every page was filled with something new and exciting that thrilled Alex, making him antsy to try out some of the spells and techniques described within.

However, as he flicked further through the fragile pages, coming to the last section, the writing began to change. No longer formally informative, it took on a more thoughtful, less practical tone. The sentences were scattered more haphazardly, penned wherever the writer could find space. Alex was surprised to find bullet points that noted previous wars and battles between the Spellbreakers and the Mages, repeating the ones mentioned in the other book Elias had given him. At the bottom of the page, beneath the long list of battles, there was a hastily written note within a sketched square:

My father has fallen in battle. My brother has fallen with him. I feel it will soon be my turn. There are not many of us left now. I look to my brothers and sisters in arms and we are growing few. We still hold our defense, but we cannot last much longer. Most of the Houses are already gone, wiped from the face of the earth. I do not simply mean we soldiers. I mean all of them—all of them, gone. Men, women, children, elderly, all. Of the Six Great Houses, three hold fast. I am the last of House Wyvern. On the field, the two remaining daughters of House Volstag fight with the savage fury of the Banshee. Beside us, the head of House Copperfield and his three sons. Never have I seen braver or bolder men and women than these few, who fight as one with me.

I wonder what will happen when we are gone? We are the last.

The pages only grew scrappier as the notebook came to its sorrowful conclusion. The writing was rushed and spiky, Alex having to squint to make out some of the words as he read them. There was something macabre about reading words written by a dead man, but Alex could not tear his eyes away.

I do not know what it will mean for the world, when the last of us falls. The world demands balance. There has to be light with dark, dark with light. Without one half, what will be left instead? It will create a void.

Alex heard Elias’s words echoing in his head, poignantly recalled. “They left a void behind that day, and voids must be filled.”

A void has to be filled.

The notebook parroted Elias. Or had Elias somehow gained those words from these very pages?

A world cannot exist in which there is only magic. It cannot simply be the Mages without the Spellbreakers. If you take one away, you leave a void; something has to replace it. It is like digging a hole in the sand—water will fill it, no matter how far from the sea you are. When a void