Maurice felt the pull of the monster’s magic as he was drawn into the past. When he reappeared, he was standing in the same place, but the Scribe’s Marsh wasn’t as he knew it.
Looking around, the researcher marveled at the sparse trees that lived here in this day and age. His history books told him the area was originally known as Scribe’s Brush, and that it was at one time home to elves defending themselves from the human kingdom’s army.
The sound of approaching footsteps drew Maury’s attention and he quickly ducked behind one of the trees.
“I don’t know where they came from, dad,” a young boy of around ten was telling an older gentlemen as they walked past. “I was just playing over by some of the fallen trees when I found them.”
“It’s okay, lad,” the man replied. “We’ll have a look, then I’ll get the reeves out here to clear them out.”
Intrigued, Maurice followed the pair for a