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From the Ashes: A Stray Spark (ch. 3)
🕑 Added 2022-09-03 14:53:05 +0000 UTCMagic danced in the palm of my hands, swirling around my fingers, aching, begging to be used. A hum of power surged through my veins that sang at the prospect, my mind shifting like sand as I shaped spell after spell, but didn’t commit to one. In the days after waking up, long enough that I could remove the bandage to reveal a startling scar across my throat that traced my slash with stark white skin, my mind had settled to a degree.
The theorycraft of magic was in tatters and snippets. Truth be told, I couldn’t make out most of it. My mind was filled with bits and pieces of complex theories and the intricacies of magic, but only bits and pieces. It would probably be easier if I didn’t know anything at all. At least then I wouldn’t start to think about how a spell worked, only to feel like I had forgotten something, then realized that I never knew it in the first place. It did more harm than good, really.
Spells were a complete mixed bag. It was difficult to tell what I knew from what I thought I knew without the ability to test it. Then there was free-floating knowledge that seemed completely unrelated to anything and I couldn’t tell if those were my musings or actual knowledge. That being said, I did find a number of spells that suited my needs perfectly.
Magic leaped from the palm of my hand, wisps of the Fade funneling into reality through my connection to it, casting Minor Illusion while I shifted Keening Blade that was wrapped in padding to block a strike from above. Kallian smiled fiercely, her attacks coming in with blistering speed, lunging with her other dagger to slash at my chest, forcing me to take a step back. The illusion took hold, a second arm sprouting from my shoulder that swung down while I swung up.
Kallian hesitated for the briefest of moments, not sure which strike to block before she decided to simply dodge. “You’re getting better with that,” Kallian mused, her own choice of weapons wrapped in thin blankets. She preferred two daggers. Myself, my scimitar even if I really should have sold the blasted thing. It felt so right in my hand and I knew how I should be able to use it, but I failed to realize that I was a 5’4 elf instead of a tall demon. My instincts on how to use it were all wrong. I was dangerously bad with a sword because of it.
“It’s not a trick that’ll work many times,” I pointed out. I had to be ruthlessly self-aware about my few strengths and many significant weaknesses. Minor Illusion was a good spell for what it was. I could cast illusions that could be seen and heard, but not touched. It was useful for quick tricks like the one that I just pulled in a fight, but it was best used when the enemy had no clue about it. The more they saw it, like Kallian, the less effective it became. “So, I’ll have to think of another.”
As I did so, I cast another spell I learned. True Strike. It was as if the Fade itself was guiding my hand as I stepped forward, leveling my blade for a thrust, I could feel Kallian's intentions to bat the blade away by making an X with her daggers. True Strike, despite the name, didn't mean I was guaranteed to land the strike. It just gave me the insight to make it more likely. Just as I thrust my sword forward, I tossed it to my other hand while casting Minor Illusion, momentarily confusing her on what was the illusion. Kallian thought it was the switching of hands, and tried to catch my illusionary blade and paid for it with a solid thwack to her side.
Kallian scowled at herself for falling for the trick before trying to make me pay for it with a counter slash at the side of my head. I backed off, stepping away as blocked another slash, only to feel a thump on my collarbone when she followed the two attacks up with another. Kallian, I found out rather quickly, was quick with her blades and she was relentless. Her defense was good, but she seemed to fight with the philosophy that she didn’t need it if I couldn’t make attacks.
That scowl turned into a triumphant smile, “Fifteen to six,” she announced. “Best to thirty?” She asked, rolling on the balls of her heels, just as energetic as she had been at the start.
I glanced over at the small hourglass that I made. Well, calling it an hourglass was a bit much. It was more of some sand that went through a small cloth funnel and when it emptied out, I knew roughly an hour had gone by. “No time for it,” I said, lowering my wrapped sword. Kallian sighed dramatically -- she had been trained by her mother, but the lessons were far too short and few for her liking. Naturally, that was because there wasn’t a lot of privacy in the alienage.
Meaning that I had to make privacy if I wanted to learn how to fight. Which I did with an incredibly useful spell. A simple one, but it was probably my most powerful.
Mold Earth. It made the ground shift to my will -- sand was easiest to mold, dirt the next to easiest, then cobblestone, and lastly was actual stone. Though, I could still mold them how I wished. I could shift the dirt, compact it, or excavate it near instantly. With the spell, over the course of a week, I was able to make a little hidey-hole in the Denerim sewers. The cavern was rather compact -- close to ten feet tall and about ten feet wide and long. The walls and floor were all made of packed dirt with little octaves hollowed out to act as shelves.
The Light spell illuminated the room by a few orbs of light that clung to the ceiling. A few of the marbles had been released from their true forms, revealing three ancient tomes. There was a shield in one corner that I had tried to use but found that it quickly tired me and made it difficult to use my magic. The tomes themselves I was struggling to make sense of -- apparently, I could read the Elven language. And the ancient Imperium language. There was a third tome but it was gibberish to me, even though I recognized it as Qunlat.
The first two were in Elvish and detailed spells and magic related to something called a Druid and an Arcane Trickster. I wondered what had been in the tome that I burnt, but I couldn’t say I regretted the decision. Anything bound in skin with a screaming face on the cover was bad news.
Walking over, I set Keening Blade into a slot made for it. Kallian did the same for Fang, the ironwood blade, but kept her other dagger. She seemed disappointed that we were already done, but she followed me to a wall without complaint. Casting Mold Earth, the wall crawled inward, the claystone bricks parting at the seams to make an uneven doorway. The stench of shit hit me like a wall, strong enough that my eyes watered as we stepped out. We pinched our noses as I resealed the entrance to my hidey-hole before we made our way out of the sewers.
I imagine that the grate on the tunnel that sent all the waste into the ocean was meant to be locked, but it was unlocked before we found it. Kallian shivered as we climbed out, clinging to the rough stone, while magic danced at my fingers once again, casting Prestidigitation to rid us of the smell and what clung to our boots.
“Thanks,” Kallian muttered, sniffing herself to make sure that it was gone. She had reservations at first, but I saw that she was rapidly getting used to magic. When I first used Minor Illusion, she had yelped and stared at it slack-jawed. She marveled at Light and gasped at Mold Earth. There had been fear in her eyes at the start, almost treating the magic like a coiled snake that would lunge at her the moment she took her eyes off of it, but with exposure, she learned to appreciate it.
I did as well. There weren’t words to describe it, I discovered as we walked through the busy docks, the feeling of being able to use my magic. Before, I never dared to use it. I was too afraid of it. Terrified that I’d accidentally set something on fire, destroy something, or worse, hurt someone. Using magic was intoxicating in a way I could only compare to that one time I got very very very wine drunk, only without the hangover. It felt like a small piece of myself that I had kept hidden away, even from myself, was finally unbound and free, even if that wasn’t exactly the truth.
It was dangerous. I knew that much. However, after finally using my magic… I don’t think it was possible for me to go back to never using it at all.
My musings were interrupted when I felt a hand clamp down on my shoulder, just about making me leap out of my skin. My eyes went wide as I looked up at the source, and it wasn’t exactly a relief to see it was Aiezn, my older brother. Aiezn was a man grown -- short-cropped black hair, sunkissed skin, and he was tall. Even for an elf. Kallian preened when she saw him, her eyes lighting up in a way I didn’t particularly care for but expected because Aiezn was handsome to boot.
I’m not sure how he did it, but it was like he robbed me of my height, looks, strength, and coordination when I was a babe.
“Azoth, what are you two doing here?” Aiezn asked me gruffly, his brow creasing as he looked at us with a deepening frown.
“Nuthin’,” Kallian replied a little too quickly while I shook off his hand on my shoulder. Unsurprisingly, Aiezn didn’t buy that.
His nostrils flared as he let out a sigh through his nose, “Look, the two of you are at an age that you can’t run off and play anymore. Both of you need to find work. Especially you, Azoth,” Aiezn grabbed me by the shoulder and gave me a firm, but not unkind squeeze. Then he narrowed his eyes ever so slightly before reaching up to ruffle my hair.
“I know,” I said, scowling as I dodged his hand, nearly bumping into a human. We were forced to step out of the way of another pair of humans as they walked down the wood dock, each carrying a box in their hands. The docks were always busy with ships coming and going, being loaded and unloaded.
There was nothing more annoying in this world than the fact that I was sitting on a fortune, four whole sovereigns for my share of the gold, but completely unable to explain why I had it.
“You’ve gotten taller,” Aiezn noted, earning a puzzled look. “I’m going to try to find you a job at the docks. You need to find work or tongues are going to start wagging that you’re just a layabout and you’ll find yourself without any prospects,” he instructed and I had to fight a scowl off of my face at the lecturing tone. He wasn’t exactly wrong. It was just incredibly annoying that he wasn’t. “Head back to the alienage, both of you-” He started to instruct, telling me what to do like he was Father before he was interrupted.
“Well, ain’t it the Suranas and the Tabris!” A slimy voice remarked. Just hearing it say my last name made me feel like I needed a bath. The three of us glanced over to see it was a few elves. I recognized the leader of the three -- dark brown hair, green eyes, and a pointed ear that was pierced with three dangling rings of iron. Durian.
I stiffened when I saw them and Aiezn stepped forward. “What do you three want?” He asked in a low tone of voice, putting himself between them and us. They were elves, but not all elves got along. There were those like my brother, my family, that managed to eke out an honest living with whatever jobs they could find -- servants, laborers, and whores primarily. However, those that couldn’t… they turned to a different way to make coin.
Durian stepped forward, speaking lowly but the cocky smile never left his lips. “I wanted to ask if you thought any more on my offer-”
“No,” Aiezn interjected, his tone flat. “I haven’t because I already gave you my answer.”
Anger flashed in Durian’s eyes, “You’re passing up a good chance to make some coin, Aiezn. Really good coin. More than that shem would ever pay you. All you have to do is pop open a box and swipe what's on top. Easy.” Durian said, his voice low but threatening. His gaze flickered to me, and, much to my shame, I looked away.
Kallian didn’t. “He told you no,” she said, stepping forward. “Get lost then before we make you,” she warned, a hand going to the dagger at her belt. One that was longer than an elf was allowed to have. Rather than be intimidated, Durian’s smile grew a fraction.
“There’s a spine,” he remarked, giving a dismissive look to both me and Aiezn. “Looks like we wasted our time with this lot. They’d lick a shem’s boots if it made them a cooper,” he added, his tone scornful, earning laughs from his backup. Kallian turned a dangerous shade of red while I felt a flush of humiliation creeping up my neck while I tried to glare menacingly. Aiezn simply glared at them but said nothing.
“Aiezn, what is goin’ on here?” A new voice interjected into the impromptu standoff. As one, we all looked over to see a human. He was on the shorter side for humans, but he was still taller than me. Broad shoulders, thick arms, and a belly that strained against a very old threadbare tunic. He seemed strong, though, but maybe that was the thick mustache that dripped down to his chin from the sides. His eyes were hard as he looked at us, mostly looking at Aiezn, but he cast an unkind look to Durain.
“Nothing. This lot were just leaving,” Aiezn stated, a warning in his voice that there would be a fight if they tried to linger. Durian gave a friendly smile to all of us before he promptly turned around and swaggered off, leaving the rest of us to watch him go. “I’m sorry about that, Adam. But, while you’re here… this is my little brother, Azoth,” he said, promptly shoving me forward towards the human with a very sudden and deferential tone in his voice. “He was just telling me that he wanted to work at the docks.”
Adam gave me a once over, and all but checked my teeth as if I were a horse. I was more than a little put out at the sudden volunteering. After all, I did have my own work. Sort of. Adam nodded to himself and slapped me on the shoulder. “Eh, you’ll fill out like your brother did. You start tomorrow.” He told me, making me blink at the rather fast hiring.
“Thank you!” Aiezn said before he very blatantly elbowed me in the ribs.
“Oh, uh, thank you,” I said, grateful for the job even if I didn’t exactly want to work at the docks. Still, I couldn’t deny it wasn’t an opportunity. Kallian seemed none too pleased, though, knowing that it would mean I would be working long hours of the day. Adam waved off my thanks and ordered my brother to accompany him to continue his day, but before he left, my brother leaned down and whispered in my ear.
“Don’t take the back streets. And, Azoth… don’t be alone with her too much unless you’re going to marry her. You’ll ruin her reputation if you do,” Aiezn advised and I jerked back, a scowl tugging at my features. That, I decided, was absolutely none of his business.
He clapped me on the shoulder before continuing on his way. I watched him go, torn between thankfulness that he was looking out for me and wanting to kick him in the head for the same reason. I understood exactly what he meant. Kallian was sixteen and I was fifteen. In a few years, both of us would be expected to be married -- probably an arranged one from another alienage -- and… I don’t know. Start families, I guess.
“Come on, let's head back,” Kallian decided, leading me through the winding streets of the slums towards the alienage. We avoided the back streets -- some streets in Denerim were dangerous at all hours of the day. It tended to be worse at night, but there were bands and gangs that claimed territory and robbed or killed anyone that passed through it. People called them street kings, but they weren’t king of much.
Some gangs were larger. Like the Raggers, Hounds, or the Blighters. Aiezn always said that there wasn’t a ship in Denerim that could do business at the docks without getting robbed by the Hounds since they controlled the docks for the most part. The Blighters controlled huge chunks of the slums and people tended to call ‘em slumlords rather than street kings. The Raggers were a bunch of thugs that battled the Hounds for the docks.
There were plenty of other gangs in the city. Too many to count, really. Some were small, others were big. They cut purses, extorted protection money, stole items at request, and even murdered for the right price. The Guards didn’t really do anything about them. Everyone said it was because people were supposed to protect themselves in Ferelden, but I thought it was because it had to be a lot easier to get paid a lot in bribes to not do your job in addition to your usual wage.
Kallian and I ended up crossing the King's Bridge that took us into the Market Square to avoid the backstreets. The Market was a large square that was completely surrounded by buildings that all housed stores and taverns. Along the way were dozens, if not hundreds, of stalls for those that couldn’t afford a storefront. In the heart of the Market Square was a tent of sorts that sold more goods. It was as I was passing through that I spotted a familiar face and drifted over with Kallian behind me.
“How’s business, Skip?” I questioned, looking at the orphaned human child. He had strawberry blonde hair that almost looked pink in the right light, pale skin, and a dusting of freckles over his nose. He looked up at me and gave a wide smile, showing off his missing front teeth. Skip was a nickname, according to the nine-year-old boy, but he refused to share his real name and, as far as I could tell, no one actually knew his real one.
“Good! Sold a bunch of the mabari,” Skip informed me, gesturing down to his strip of cloth that rested on the ground between stalls. On the cloth were a number of figurines made out of soapstone -- knights, archers, and the lone mabari that remained out of six. The figurines hadn’t been carved but made with Mold Earth. The signs of the carvings were intentionally placed. “If ya’ got any more of ‘em, then I’ll take ‘em off ya’ hands,” Skip offered while he dug around his pants for his coin purse.
He kept it inside his trousers. Harder to steal that way. Skip fished it out and opened it up, revealing a heavy purse of copper. “And don’t bother with the Garahel ones. No ones buying ‘em,” he said, passing me several coppers as I scowled deeply at that. Garahel was one of the few elven heroes that elves had. He was the Grey Warden that ended the fourth Blight four hundred years ago and saved the whole blasted world, and people didn’t want a figurine of him? “Oi, don’t go blamin’ me. Blame the market! If ya’ want to sell ‘em, then put ‘em on a griffon or sumthin’. Everyone loves griffons!”
I would if I could. “I have no idea what a griffon looks like,” I pointed out.
“Neither do I. Bet this lot with their heavy pockets and empty heads don’t know nuthin’ either,” Skip retorted and that was a point.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I told him, earning another smile. “Keep up the good work, Skip.”
A few copper richer, I saw Kallian scowling at the boy as we walked away together. “He’s cheating you,” she whispered to me, having seen the heavy purse of copper. Copper that was there because of the figurines that I made.
“I know,” I admitted to her while we headed back to the alienage. I had an arrangement with Skip -- people wouldn’t buy figurines from me. I was an elf. If I sat down in the market square with a blanket covered in figurines, I’d be driven off and the figurines taken because they figured I’d have stolen them rather than made them. Not to mention that elves weren’t allowed to be merchants. Instead, I gave them to Skip, who sold them while giving people sad looks.
Humans were generally unkind to elves. Adam seemed to be different, but I had also heard Aiezn muttering bitterly about him more than once. Humans, however, tended to look out for their own kind, so they would toss the child a few extra coppers for a figurine that they bought out of pity.
“We should go back there and get what you’re owed,” Kallian stated, her tone harsh. I shook my head as I urged her along.
“I have a family. And money,” I remind her in a whisper, knowing where she was coming from. It was right that Skip was likely cheating me out of a copper for everyone that he gave me. I think I would be far angrier about it if those figurines had taken me more than a few hours to make the whole lot. “He doesn’t. He’s just got himself.” Skip was an orphaned human and while humans took pity on orphans, they didn’t have enough to give him a home.
Kallian’s anger melted away, but she did still seem unhappy. We traveled in silence until we passed through the alienage gate. It hadn’t rained this week, though the clouds hinted that would soon change, so the mud road had reverted back to a dirt one. I didn’t see Soris or Shianni, but I’m sure that they were somewhere. Who I did see, however, was Adaia, who quickly caught sight of her daughter.
“I’ll see you later, Azoth. I… didn’t do my chores,” Kallian explained the cross look on her mother's face and waved goodbye before heading over for a scolding. I hoped she didn’t regret coming out with me.
I watched her walk away and forced myself to swallow a sigh before I began to make my way home. What Aiezn said was weighing on my mind rather heavily. Things had changed. Me, Kallian, Shianni, and Soris were all growing up. The days that we could just spend our days doing nothing together were behind us. The four of us were lucky that our families were as well off as they were, otherwise we would have never been able to do anything together.
My thumb went to the growing callouses on my sword hand. It had only been a week, but my hands were changing. I’m not even sure why I was training, really. No. That wasn’t exactly true. Kallian loved to train with her daggers and, well… I had a sword. Seemed like I should know how to use it.
“Is that what I’m going to be?” I wondered to myself, my voice just above a whisper, feeling… not hopeless but decidedly uncertain about my future. Would I just be another dock-working elf that used his magic to make mabari dog figurines as a side hustle for the rest of my days? Until I had a head of gray hair like Grandfather? I was a mage. Should I even have children? I didn’t know. The idea that I could have a child and have them ripped away from me to be sent to the Circle… though, I suppose, I could always go with them. Did the Circle let parents and children stay together? It’d be cruel to separate them, I thought.
Another sigh escaped me as I thought about my future. Growing up, I always dreamed of being a hero like Garahel. That one day, far off in the future, elven children would fight to be Azoth Surana during a game of Heroes and Humans. It was pretty unfeasible, but it's what I wanted. Though, I suppose the reason why Garahel was exceptional was that he was the exception. Most elves didn’t get to be heroes.
I pushed open the front door, fully expecting my home to be empty during the midday -- Nessira and Nikkia would have lessons, while our parents would have work. Grandfather would be found with Valendrian, the Haren of the alienage. However, as the door opened, I saw that my mother and father were sitting in the living room whispering quietly to themselves. They seemed as shocked to see me as I was them.
“Azoth! What are you doing home?” Mother asked me -- she had blonde hair and green eyes, and she was very pretty. She had to be to work at the Arl’s estate. She quickly got up while Father leaned back -- his hair was black and all of his children inherited his blue eyes. We all favored him in coloring, but most of us looked more like Mother in the face.
“I… should be asking you that,” I pointed out, thinking it was extremely unusual to see them both during the day. Both tended to leave early in the morning and came back late in the afternoon. Seeing them here was more than just weird, it was making a knot of tension form in my gut, sensing that something was… wrong. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes.”
“No,” Father said, casting Mother a sharp look for trying to hide the truth. “He’s not a boy anymore, Isseya,” Father muttered in a low tone, making Mother frown but sighed in acceptance before he pinned a look on me. “Things aren’t well at the Kendell estate. Don’t go wagging your tongue about this, Azoth, but… it’s Vaughan. He raped and murdered Fendriss, the blacksmith's daughter.” He informed and that was a punch to the gut.
I knew of Fendriss, but I never spoke to her. I saw her around on the occasion but she had been a solid ten years older than me. She was sweet on my brother at one point, before she got married.
“What-” I started, about to ask a very, very stupid question. Vaughan Kendell was the Arl's son. Nothing was going to be done.
“They found her body in the basement with Vaughan standing over her, Maker preserve her. He was trying to get rid of the body before anyone was the wiser. It’s been hushed up by the seneschal, and we were all given a whole silver to keep our mouths shut about it before we got sent home. For our own protection,” Father continued, dragging a hand over his face.
Mother glared at him, thinking that he went into too much detail. My stomach clenched at the mental image of it. She swept me up in a hug, resting my head against her shoulder. “Your father and I were discussing if we should continue to work for the Arl. It’s a good position, but… Vaughan has always been a cruel boy. Now he’s become a cruel man. We-”
“I got a job at the docks today,” I blurted, catching both my parents by surprise. “And I’ve been carving in my free time,” I added, fetching the coppers in my pocket. Father’s eyebrows rose up at the sum as I revealed about fifteen of them in total. Not inconsiderate. “So, if you don’t feel safe at the Arls estate, then you should leave.”
Mother let out a small but proud laugh at that, “Your father is making it sound far worse than it is.”
“He raped and murdered someone,” I interjected before she could try to soothe my concerns. “And nothing is going to happen to him. Was his father cross with him?” I asked mine, and he hesitated to nod.
“Aye. For fear of the scandal,” Father spat, disgust in his tone.
That's what I thought. Nobles were different than normal folk. I’m not sure I really believed the idea that they were naturally our betters which is why they were the nobles in the first place, but it couldn’t be denied that they lived by a very different set of rules. Most people wouldn’t care if someone got caught raping and murdering an elf. A noble doing it? No one would do a thing. Still, I liked to think it would make some small talk awkward during the next Landsmeet when the people heard that they were sitting across from a rapist and a murderer.
“Then he’s going to do it again,” I voiced and by their expressions, they both knew it. “I want you to get out. Both of you,” I said, looking at Mother directly, knowing that she was in the most danger. “Me and Aiezn can make up the difference between us. Until you find something better.”
Mother laughed, “I doubt that we’ll find anything better than serving the Arl,” she pointed out.
“Then safer,” I corrected. She was right -- few jobs paid better than serving the Arl.
“I agree,” Father spoke, looking at Mother. “I’ll keep working for him for now, to lessen the strain on our family’s coffers. You, however, should quit. I know the Seneschal will understand. I suspect you won’t be the only elven worker leaving the estate in wake of this.”
I could see that Mother was resistant to the idea -- She liked doing housekeeping for the Arl. I think it might just be because she liked to clean since she was always doing it after us, but she also liked the prestige it gave our family. Grandfather was a Night Elf, she and her husband served the Arl. It made us sound important and she was reluctant to give it up. However, good sense won out over vanity and she offered a small nod. “After the Landsmeet has concluded,” she decided. “I don’t want to leave them shorthanded and give reason to bad mouth me. It could ruin my prospects working elsewhere.”
Father seemed as relieved as I did. “Later than what I want, but so long as you’re safe. I need to go tell the Haren. Someone needs to break the news to Alfi,” Father sighed, getting up. As he walked by, he placed a hand on my shoulder and gave me a look of pride that was usually reserved for Aiezn. I stood a bit straighter as he left us alone.
“Azoth,” Mother started, her tone catching me by surprise, her hands going to my shoulders. “I know you, my son. I do. So, don’t even think about it,” she told me, looking directly into my eyes. “Not even if you think you wouldn’t get caught. It’s not worth the risk. They’ll find you, and kill you if you’re lucky, and then purge the alienage for good measure.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but the words wouldn’t come. She was right. She saw right through me before I could think about it myself. How easy, I wonder, would it be to sneak into the Arl’s estate and punish Vaughan for what he did? To sneak into his room and all it would take was a simple swipe of Keening Blade and he would be dead. But, Mother was right. People would find out if only because of the timing.
That, and I don’t know if I had what it took to kill a man. Gaxkang didn’t really count on account of the fact that he was a several millennia-old demon that wanted to possess me and was going to kill Kallian. That was one thing. Breaking into a noble home in the dead of night and killing him in his sleep in cold blood was premeditated murder. There was a difference. The Maker accepted death in self-defense, but murder was a stain on one's soul.
“I won’t think about it,” I told her, telling her what I knew she wanted to hear. Mother searched my gaze for a moment longer before she brought me in for another hug, a sigh of relief escaping her.
“I know it's hard, my child, but you must keep your gift hidden. Always. For your sake, you can’t ever use it. Even to lend a helping hand,” she told me in a soft whisper, and I think she really did know me too well. She didn’t often speak about my magic, thinking even whispering about it was too much of a risk. How did she know I was practicing? Did something give me away?
“... I won’t,” I told her, hugging her back as I abandoned thoughts of revenge on the Arl’s son. In the end, I was no hero. Just an ordinary elf that so happened to have some magic. I was no second coming of Garahel, savior of the world.
So long as I could save my family? That was enough for me.
Comments
Eliezer
Not as much happening in this chapter...
Bud
Use Mold Earth and bring the building down, or an unexpected sinkhole, unstable balcony railing...
Leisercom
I don't like where this is going, because I think something will happen to the family...
Ghost-Crow (Corvidae Corvus)
Lmao, you know his mother's gonna end up raped and mutilated and he'll have no one to blame but himself because he didn't do anything when he could have
The Epitome of Eccentricity
Every story you write is gold
