Inspiration's Tome

A thin haze of dust sent golden sunbeams dappling the walls as Ashton riffed through the worn wooden shelves of the castle library. Wordlessly he ran a hand across leather spines, savoring the soft texture beneath his fingers. A musty smell lingered in the air – the telltale scent of old books waiting to be cracked open and discovered.

From the very first time he stepped into this vast library ten years ago, this smell had always been there to greet him. It was like an old friend – always welcoming, always patient, always kind. When Ashton wanted to escape the bustle of his duties as the organization’s division commander he would retrace his steps here first and foremost. He would stop at the entrance and draw in a deep breath as he did now, letting the cool air fill his lungs and wash away all his worries.

For a brief moment Ashton’s gaze landed on a green tome – the words so faded he could barely make them out – and he paused. The book had a golden clasp on its cover, as if it were hiding a secret within. The sight only piqued Ashton’s curiosity further – already his fingers were reaching for it, pressing gently on the cracked spine.

“Have you found the book you seek, Sir Ashton?”

A large bird with storm-gray plumage alighted on the rungs of a nearby ladder. His round, orange eyes swept the vast rows of shelves, as if in quiet admiration. The creature’s name was Orthrus, and he was a strix – an owl-like avian guardian of the night, one of the sixteen great Guardians of the world, and Ashton’s closest partner.

The Guardian’s question was met with silence as Ashton continued to study the book. Slowly he tugged it from its place on the shelf and hefted it in his hands. A momentary glance at Orthrus and Ashton nodded in satisfaction. “Yes. This looks to be the one.”

“Good.” Orthrus took to the air with a flap of his great wings, leaving a few stray feathers to drift to the ground below. Ashton followed his Guardian with a small smile.

The soft gold light from the grand chandelier above stirred Ashton’s senses as he sat at one of many long wooden tables. Smooth and worn was the surface, glinting and warmed by the dappled sunlight pouring in through the windows. Carefully undoing the clasp, Ashton opened it to a small cloud of dust. The musty perfume grew yet stronger, and Ashton instinctively drew in a deep breath, allowing it to permeate every fiber of his being.

Brushing it off, Ashton began to read, scanning the words meticulously. The only sounds were the scuff of leather, the rustle of paper, and steady, whispered breaths. Hesitant peace settled over the man and his Guardian as they lost themselves in the pages.

From his youth, Ashton had always been an avid reader. Though he spent his childhood on the streets, scraping worn cobblestones and digging in piles of bones and vegetable peels for scraps to eat, he always found himself drawn to words. It didn’t take a genius to realize that reading was essential to survival, especially in a city where words were everywhere he looked. Eventually Ashton was taken in by a local gang who properly taught him to read and write – though said teachings were limited to things related to their code. From that day a new world opened up, and Ashton often escaped into the world of books when reality’s vice had tightened its grip too much for him to bear. Fantasies of old, technical manuals, mathematical proofs – he read through everything the gang’s library had to offer, then set out to steal more. His amassed wealth of knowledge combined with his ruthlessness allowed Ashton to soar through the gang’s ranks – and ironically, aided him in becoming the Champion he was today.

A series of wingflaps that rustled the pages of his book pulled Ashton’s attention. He glanced up just in time for Orthrus to land next to him, carefully setting a steaming mug of tea on the table.

“Here you are,” Orthrus said. “Lady Sumia insisted on delivering this to you.”

Ashton blinked in surprise, then dipped his head in a slight nod. Sumia was one of his fellow commander-in-arms – and the one who was most concerned about his well-being, often chiding him for cooping himself up in the library for hours on end. Yet it was precisely because of her concern that she would bring him small refreshments like this every now and then.

Slowly Ashton took a sip of the tea, frissons running down his spine at its warmth. He gave Orthrus a rare, small smile. “Please tell Sumia I said thank you.”

Turning back to the book, Ashton paused at the end of a paragraph, his fingers already itching to turn the page. But as he did, something gave him pause. His gaze flitted over the words, and something leapt out at him.

“This is…”

A few paragraphs below there was an intricate drawing that took up much of the page. It depicted a person wielding a staff while courageously facing off against a horde of monsters. Part of the wielder’s arms seemed to have melded into the staff itself, as if the staff had become a literal extension of their body.

Ashton studied the drawing intently, his heart skipping a beat as inspiration struck like lightning. It looked like something that would’ve come straight out of a fairy tale. The warrior resembled the heroes of old, those who once saved the world in the distant past. Ashton had always admired those heroes and strove to be like them. Never had he imagined that one day he would stand in their shoes and become a hero in his own time.

The hours whiled by, with Ashton losing himself in his book and his tea. As tended to happen while reading, ideas began to stir in his mind. Halfway through the book Ashton pulled out a notepad and a pencil and began jotting down thoughts as they came to him, many of them born from the book’s pages. Familiar excitement warmed his chest – an old companion he hadn’t seen in ages. Orthrus read over Ashton’s shoulder all the while, noting his Champion’s ideas with quiet wonder.

Gradually scribbled margins and hastily jotted notes shaped into a story all their own. Buoyed by inspiration Ashton read and wrote on, once-empty pages now bursting with fantastical characters and storylines. His mug of tea emptied as his notepad filled, the book reaching ever closer to its end. At one point Orthrus brought Ashton a brisket sandwich (his favorite) – though said sandwich went untouched for the time being, so absorbed was Ashton in his own world.

Finally Ashton sat back with a weary, yet satisfied sigh. Stretching out, he took a large bite of his still-warm sandwich, letting the familiar savory flavors dance on his tongue. There was nothing like hearty comfort food after a long writing session to fill the stomach and soul.

“Seems like you’re finally done,” Orthrus remarked.

Ashton nodded. “Indeed. It’s been a long time since I last was able to indulge in reading and writing.”

“Do you plan to share your ideas with the other Champions?”

The question was met with a frown as Ashton contemplated the notion. Often the ideas he wrote were things he kept close to his heart, secrets only he trusted Orthrus to know. But rereading his notes now, something stirred within him. Perhaps this was something he could share with them after all, for the betterment of the organization.

Standing, Ashton nodded at Orthrus. “Yes. I think I will this time.”

Orthrus canted his head, then dipped it in approval. “You have fine ideas. I believe the others will be more than willing to listen.” His bright orange eyes almost seemed to sparkle – whether it simply be the reflection of the chandelier or the first hints of amusement, Ashton could not tell.

Ashton closed the book and went to place it back on its shelf. “Shall we get going?”

“Right behind you,” Orthrus replied with a flap of his wings.

A smile flitted across Ashton’s face as he held his notepad close. From those ideas sprang not only a new story, but a new proposal. As he and Orthrus stepped out of the library into the sun-soaked halls, a ghostly whisper slipped from his lips.

“May a new era of inspiration grace us all.”