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cracked, that was what he went to retrieve. The guards recovered his body and returned the case to my mother, where she put it away, she never looked inside it, but I often saw her staring coldly at the case from time to time when I was young like she hated the object for getting him killed. After the death of my father, my mother visited the temple daily, she was looking for ways to contact the dead, she wanted to speak with him one last time, she asked the priests if there was a way, but they told her it was best the let the dead stay dead. She wouldn’t accept that answer though, she knew necromancy was very taboo and disgusting, so instead of heading down darker paths she decided to try to contact the gods directly, so she learned their language and even taught me a bit, she prayed to the shrines speaking their language but none of them answered and she …show more content…

A few months after she quit praying, I saw her mending some old boots, they were tattered and torn, I asked her why she won’t just buy new ones, she said my father made those boots for her before they married each other, he was a cobbler, this was the first time she spoke about him. Later that day, I snuck into his workroom, which was usually locked by a key only mother had, but she put them away at night and I had taken them. The room was dusty and dark, so I took a candle inside, there was a table in the corner with a lantern hanging above, it was covered in tools and old leather and fabric, along with shelves full of old designs and tool manuals. I remembered how my mother talked so fondly of him, but I also remembered how sad she was all of the time, so I took it upon myself to rummage through all of his old schematics and designs and I found one tucked away in a book, it

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