Agartha - Quest for the Legacy

An aura surrounded a glass case resting inside a chamber. The chamber was dark, except for the illumination from the light of the aura. It casted murky shadows on the thick moisture-laden walls of the chamber. The aura was peaceful, yet it looked fierce and powerful. There seemed to be an aged angelic voice that was calling, "Come. This is your destiny. You have to come. You will come."

Brad woke up with a start. Sweat was dripping off him. 'Strange dream!', he thought. He had seen this dream, numerous times earlier. With every time, he seemed to notice that the dream was becoming clearer. He thought that it was really strange to have such a dream. 'That place seem so magical. How could there be magic in this world?' Brad was deep in thoughts, and before he knew, he fell asleep again.

"Come on Brad, get up! You're going to be late again. Get up!"

Brad woke up with a start as he heard his mother screaming. He patted his chest as he got up from the bed, successfully knocking down a painting littered on the bed. He remembered that he was painting something at dawn before he fell asleep. He smiled at his clumsiness and picked it up placing it somewhere else in his messy room. His mother was shouting from the kitchen for a while now.

"Come on Brad, get up! You're going to be late again. Get up!" Same sentence. She is now repeating it like a mantra. Brad laughed at his mother's antics before walking down the stairs. He stood just behind his mother and said, "Mum, stop shouting. I already got up." His mother never anticipated that Brad was in fact standing behind her, so she was extremely startled, and the pan she was holding in her hands, fell onto the oven.

"Ha, Brad you scared me!", she scolded her, but there was only fondness in her voice.

"Mom, what are you making?" Brad asked as he stepped inside the kitchen as he sniffed the smell and almost drooled. "Mom, I love you." Brad's mother laughed at his childish actions, but she reprimanded him saying, "Go and brush your teeth first. Otherwise, no breakfast." Seeing him so cheerful early in the morning filled her with more fondness for her only son. She laughed and pretended to scold him.

Brad came to the breakfast table and saw his favorite pancakes. He gobbled them down, even choking once.

"Eat slowly." His mother said.

The Holman family was very rich as Mr. Holman was the Mayor of New York City and he was fairly paid, but Brad wanted to rely on himself to study. So, he took up a part time job as a cashier in C-Town Supermarket in Inwood, nearly 30 kilometers from his home in Lower East Side in a small borough of Manhattan. After finishing breakfast together, his mom packed his tiffin and he kissed his mom goodbye. Before he could jump over the fence onto the road, his dad came downstairs and said in a heavy tone, "What did you yesterday?"

Brad said in a meek tone, "Umm… Painting?"

"Are you asking me or answering me?", his dad asked. Mr. Stephan Holman sat down on the breakfast table before looking at Brad again. He raised an eyebrow seeing that Brad wasn't answering his question.

"So?" Stephan asked again as he saw that Brad was standing there tight-lipped.

"We fought." Brad answered only in two words.

"Whose fault?" Mr. Holman asked.

"Theirs." Brad said with his head lowered. As soon as Mrs. Holman heard of the term 'fighting', she brought along her spatula as she stood by the door. She was eagerly waiting for more information from her husband and son, who seemed to be talking in codes.

She placed one hand on her waist, the other hand still holding the spatula. A drop of oil dropped on her apron, but she did not mind. She stared at her husband and son demanding for explanation, "Is anyone going to tell me what is the 'fighting' about?"

Brad was the first one to deny. "It's nothing, Mom." But when he saw the disbelief in his mom's eyes, he added, "Seriously."

Mrs. Amelia Holman neither believed Brad nor his dad. She fumed with anger and spat out, "Go to hell both of you." Saying that she went to the kitchen again holding the spatula. The smell of burnt pancakes was wafting out of the kitchen to reach their noses, but they did not dare to comment anything on that.

Brad recounted the whole story without missing a single detail, to his dad in such a tone that only both of them could hear. His dad was initially surprised, but later said, "Good job. But don't stir up trouble like this again. This could have been fatal for you. If they had sent assassins, what could you have done? Not only you, but your friends would have been in a risk. Do you understand what I mean?"

"Yes Dad, I understand. I'll handle matters efficiently from now on. I'll stay as low-key as possible. They are my true friends and I don't want any harm to befall them." Brad said and a resolute look flashed through his eyes. As their eyes met, they understood each other without the need to say anything. He tiptoed to the lawn, and jumped over the fence onto the street.

"SCREECHHH" A loud screech was heard, and almost at the same time a loud scream could be heard.