Post by shhiru on Mar 22, 2012 13:42:34 GMT -5
Candlelight flickered and leapt down long hallways lined with ancient leather-bound tomes. The light hesitated as it met a lone figure, but quickly danced on to the depths of the library. The figure took no notice of the light nor the flickering shadows, he was completely absorbed in the book he was reading. Entitled A treatise on Thaga Society it was one of the older books, and had clearly not been read often. The boy's eyes flicked across the pages, drinking in the knowledge with an unending thirst. Footsteps punctuated with a tapping of a cane echoing down the polished marble halls did little to disturb him, even making him read faster, paper rustled as he turned the pages with increasing vigour.
"That's enough, Kelsahn," A rich voice cut through his frenzied reading. The book snapped shut, a small red ribbon keeping his place. A hand reached over his shoulder and, very deliberately, took hold of the book and placed it on the nearby shelf.
"As much as I encourage your thirst for knowledge, I cannot allow it to interfere with your other lessons. Magic may not seem as important to you now, but it will. Trust me,"
"Yes father," Kelsahn dipped his head and hurried out of the hall, past his ageing father and out to another day of lessons with his magic tutor.
Kelsahn was 25 years of age at the time.
53 years later:
Kelsahn was back in the library. Having found the A treatise on Thaga Society after 53 years was indeed a blessing: his father's library had apparently eaten most of his childhood books. He flicked through the pages, which had taken on a strange crinkly quality. Kelsahn gripped it as if he was going to open it, but decided against it; he was late for his magic lesson again after all. With a sigh, he made his way up the spiral staircase at the end of the hall, squinting slightly in the sudden brightness. His magic tutor, Stoiae, was waiting for him on the balcony as per usual. In Stoiae’s hand three fireballs floated, they travelled in a circular motion, never touching or falling off. Kelsahn couldn’t help feeling respect for this man, holding two fireballs was his own limit, and he suspected Stoiae could summon more.
“Late for lessons again?” Stoiae tutted, “Still, you’re here now, that’s what matters. Today we will be working on range and accuracy when throwing fireballs,” At this the fireballs rose out of his hand and flew off over the streets of Viventor, colliding with each other after an impressive flight. “Now you,” Stoiae motioned with his hand, indicating Kelsahn do the same. He was just about to start, when a flustered and tearful maid rushed past crying the words “Dead!” over and over again. Kelsahn looked at Sen and asked if he could go and see what was causing the commotion. Stoiae relented and Kelsahn ran out the door and through the house at full pelt. The centre of the excitement seemed to be around his father’s chambers, not a good sign… He collided with at least three people on his way, who soon followed in his wake. The small gathering arrived at his father’s door; Kelsahn burst in and was confronted with a most distressing scene. His father was in his bed, as normal. But he didn’t look terribly, well, alive. His mother was lying by his father’s side, sobbing and crying about the shame it had brought to their family; that was just like her, to worry about the family as a whole rather than the constituent parts. Kelsahn didn’t know how to feel. He didn’t feel terribly upset, but then, he didn’t feel terribly anything. He decided he was in shock, and he would collapse into tears at any moment. Failing to do so he backed out of the room and dashed to his own, seeking some familiarity. He sat down on the bed, all the energy suddenly sucked out of him. His once clear cut future as a High Council member now in shreds, a huge void had opened in front of him. And his father… Gone… Admitedly his father had never been much of a figure in Kelsahn’s life, but he still felt a great sense of loss. And anger; his father had known what becoming a Council member had meant to him, and still had shamed him by committing suicide, thus destroying any dreams of success.
3 years later:
Life in Viventor had become unbearable, being slighted by his once-friends stung more than he could describe. Coupled with his own shame at his father’s crime it would have been enough to break him, had he not decided to leave. He had put a lot of planning into leaving, he knew he was headed to Tyro island and he knew what he was taking, but it was still a big step in his life. Was he ready to live with those he had been brought up to think of as Neanderthals? Probably not, but it would be a damn sight better than living in Viventor that’s for sure. Stoiae had long since left, along with most of the servants so there wasn’t anyone he particularly wanted to say goodbye to. He tightened the straps on his backpack and hoisted it onto his shoulders, swaying a little under the weight. He crept downstairs, not particularly wanting to bump into anyone, and left the house. Once outside he made his way to the main gate. He looked back on Viventor, once his home, now an unwelcoming sight. With a heavy heart, he set out into the world and began the journey to Tyro Island…
((Wanted to flesh the story in my app out a bit, sorry for the wall of text =P, I might write more or add more to this one in time, maybe...))