2 chapter two

As the door closed behind me, I stepped slowly towards the two beams of light. Except for the scrolls, everything around me was pitch black, and no sound could be heard from the outside. I felt like I was in a dream, and moving cautiously, I stepped further into the room.

As I approached, a white scroll lured me with a calm voice, but on the right was a black scroll that roared at me as I reached for the left one. I moved away from the white scroll, startled, but as it beconked me to come forward, my curiosity took over.

"Will you just be quiet?" I yelled, sick of the black scroll. The scroll immediately turned silent, as if it hadn't anticipated my shouts. Seeing this opportunity, the clean scroll encouraged me to seize it. But I held back since I wasn't sure what these scrolls could do.

"Oh, come on, pick me," the white scroll pleaded. I fell back in awe as I had not known it could speak other than calling my name. I watched as the two began arguing about who I should pick. As the arguing got more intense, so did their voices. I covered my ears as the noise became unbearable.

"Why must you be so loud?" I shouted. "Because we want to be picked," they both replied. I stood up, brushed myself off, and once again approached them. "And why must I pick either one of you?" I asked.

"Because both of us have the ability to restore color, just in different ways," the white scroll replied. Color hasn't been in this world for over fifty years. except for the yellow flower in front of the door. I didn't know if I wanted to believe them or not. I replayed the scene of the first time I saw the yellow flower and how excited I felt about it.

"Ok, so if you both bring color to the world, what's the difference?" I asked. Both the black and the white scroll jumped at the chance to tell me all about what they could do. "Well my dear, I'm the quest of an angel, and that thing over there is a request from the demon," the white scroll said.

I had never really been a believer in God, so I didn't understand what was so bad about it. "So what?" I replied, shifting my attention to the black scroll, "Why does it matter that you're from a demon?"

"It doesn't, it's just because I'm black, right?" the black scroll answered. I giggled at the thought while the white scroll became flustered by this accusation. They began

arguing and both went on and on about why one was better than the other, but didn't give me a single reason why choosing between the two would make any difference.

After a while, my patience grew thin as it felt as if I was wasting my time. Even my ears grew sore from listening to them babble.

"Enough!" I shouted. Stunned, both scrolls fell silent and we all sat in silence from the beginning, so I finally had some time to think.

"Why don't I just pick at random?" I asked. Both scrolls gave each other a look of confusion at my request. "It's simple. All you have to do is move around till I grab one," I said. "Fine," they both reply.

I closed my eyes and, as they began running back and forth, I reached out my hand and grabbed one. "Yes!" the white scroll shouted with excitement. I opened my eyes to see the white scroll wiggling in my hand.

As I started to open the scroll, I was met with

a short riddle, and I began to read it aloud:

"To bring back what was once here, you must let go of someone dear, for the world will be saved by the seven who are rare, whom you'll find by the color of their hair, who will soon become the masters of magic, when their loved ones end up tragic."

"What does it mean when it says they'll end up tragic?" I asked, both confused and worried about the riddle that barely filled up one-eighth of the paper. With no response, I began to worry that I had chosen the wrong one.

As the uneasiness in my body increased, I began to feel strange. My mind became foggy, and my vision followed suit. My body had hit the floor before I realized it, and my eyes had begun to close forcefully. My head felt like it was swimming in mud, and breathing for me was becoming an act of sheer willpower.

When I awoke, I was no longer in the black void that I had arbitrarily walked into. As I looked ahead, all I could see was the grey trees that swayed in the wind. How long was I in there? I thought. Picking myself up, I stumbled back to the village, hoping to see my worried parents.

As I racked my brain to try and find out how long I had been gone, I was met with piercing eyes that followed me as I walked into the village. "She's here to make another mess," one grunted. "Has she not caused enough trouble?" another mumbled.

I shamefully made my way to the house and was greeted by my worried father, who barked at me to go to my room while he went and told my mother the news of my return. I waited patiently for them to return, only to hear the soft wheezes of my brother in the room next door.

I hadn't talked to him since his last hospital visit, so I was quite worried about what he would say. " Feeling any better? " I asked, popping my head in the door. He stayed silent for a while but talked softly as a grin crept around his face, "while I don't know you tell me, "he replied, giving a giggle.

I sat on his bed and joked with him to keep myself from crying, but in the end, it was useless. Before I knew it, my face was covered in tears and they wouldn't stop. After a while, I excused myself from the room and tried my best to keep it together.

It wasn't long until my father came back with my mother, and unlike him, she greeted me with a warm embrace. The hug didn't last long as we now had to prepare for Paco to receive his next doctor's visit. I waited anxiously for the doctor with Paco as I tried to make him laugh as he clung to my arm.

"Well, hello Paco," the doctor said as he approached my father and mother. "Now tell me, has your vision deteriorated?" He was too scared to reply, as all he could do was stare endlessly and fidget with his thumbs. We all knew his vision hadn't gotten any better, but that was just something we weren't ready to hear.

The doctor performed his usual procedure, and the miracle we had hoped for was once again postponed. "I'm sorry to say, but unless it's magic, there's no cure for this," the doctor said as he walked out, and all that meant to me was that Paco was a lost cause.

According to my grandmama, magic hadn't been around since the disappearance of color. The hole in my heart started to burn until I remembered the scroll. Sneaking past my father, as he comforted my mother, I opened the scroll to read the riddle once again.

"To bring back what was once here," I whispered to myself as the light bulb in my head finally clicked. This, I theorized, is the key to reviving magic. This could save my brother. This could solve everything.