How long has it been? Time passes silently by me; unheard and uncounted, it stalks past in the darkness. Only Korian’s occasional visits break up the monotony, but his appearances rarely bring good news, only more confusion and worry. Sometimes, Korian returns, his eyes ringed in black and cheekbones prominent, and all he does is slump into this dark, wet cell and sit next to me, often falling asleep against my shoulder.
Those times, I worry about him, and the worry persists until, inevitably, he returns and explains the latest situation. Out recruiting, he often tells me, or trying to get more money (never enough money, he mumbles in his sleep, never enough). He has the world on his shoulders, and I am the one he steals away to for comfort (never mind the fact that I am the one has trapped away).
Other times, he has a fire blazing in his eyes, and I almost find myself tumbling down into the blaze of madness and passion right along with him. As he sweeps in through the door, his cloak fluttering behind him and black eyes shining with a deep, smoldering light, I know that this will be one of the times his fire threatens to consume me once again.
“Do you remember the day, Marvus? When our fates separated forever,” Korian questions, setting off into another round of frantic pacing. I sigh tiredly; of course, I remember. How could I not? It is one of the things that constantly circles around my head, never really leaving, and I can only think about how everything changed in one day.
“Yes, Korian, I do,” I wearily inform him; I feel so tired. Being here drains my energy, and now, after so long, I have none left. Korian seems to notice this as he slows his excited pace, and he worriedly settles himself down in front of me. After a few silent minutes of peering into my eyes, he reaches back behind me and unlocks the chains.
“Come; walk with me and recount the day. Please, Marvus--you’ll feel better when you get outside,” Korian worriedly mutters, and as he helps me stand, I feel my legs trembling beneath me. Clinging onto him for support, any sense of previous pride in my physical prowess melts away into the waters at my feet, but I shove it all down and instead focus on the past, if only to erase the thought of the present.
My sixteenth birthday--an exciting time, by all means, yet a terrifying one. Exciting because I finally could understand the great destiny that had been laid out before me all my life; terrifying because I would have to leave my closest friend behind in following the road paved for me to walk. This information, I relate to Korian, hobbling along dark hallways with his own bony form supporting me. Stretched to my fullest height, I still stand taller to him, and this brings a small smile to my lips.
“We went together, as we always did. Inseparable, back then. You always claimed to need me for protection because I was taller, and I guess you still do, huh?” I weakly joke, even as I rest upon him. Korian turns his face away from me, almost as if pained or shamed, and I sigh heavily. It is all too painfully evident to me how much I have deteriorated, but I push those thoughts away and refocus on the past.
A short trip to the central city, not one often taken, though. Within a few days, with us taking our time, we strolled in through the front gates, Korian at my side and almost hiding from the world behind me. People, as always, loitered around; even more so, then. The Great Fair, a time for kids from all over the kingdom to come and learn of their fates. How our eyes shined, gazing upon the different peoples of different cultures, the various shows of frivolity, and the exotic items strewn about.
“You tell stories like an old man, Marvus,” Korian teases, flashing me a coy smile as we duck down a thin hallway. We pause for a few seconds, our bodies snuggled side by side in the small space, and it takes me back to our youth of hiding in alcoves, alley-ways, anywhere we could fit, just to get away from the world for a few short moments.
“I would rather dwell upon the pleasant parts of the story, which happen to be the parts with you,” I inform him, my heart growing heavy. Here, with him, it feels like a piece of me has returned, one I never even knew snuck away in the first place, and while another piece seems to have left, it leaves far less of a hole.
It all began that day, I recall. We decided to not hesitate or waste time; there would be time, we thought, to linger and enjoy the festivities. That thought in mind, we headed immediately to the Seers’ Tents; our lives changed the moment we stepped through that cloth-covered entrance.
They drew me aside; I had the mark of a Great One, they said. I glanced back at Korian, nervous and horribly vulnerable standing all by himself, but they forced me forward, deeper into the maze of tents, people, and decorations. Eventually, I stumbled into a hidden tent; it was black, almost swallowed by the branches and leaves around it, with runes and candles littered around carelessly.
“Slowly, now. It’s dusk, but still. I don’t want your eyes to hurt,” Korian murmurs as he slowly pushes open a heavy, seemingly unused door. Dirt and rust flecks off, and the faintest streams of light peek through. Coughing slightly, I carefully creep out, relishing at the feeling of something other than water and stone under my feet. A soft light bathes the entire world; I marvel at the sight of blackened trees, their sharp, bare branches reaching like claws into the sky as if to ensnare a rising star.
“I missed you,” I breathe out into the cooling air; a thousand other things threaten to rush out, an impossible torrent of emotions and hidden thoughts. I stop them, though, and instead continue to retell the events after our separation, not pausing to give Korian time to respond to my confession. There will be time to discuss it later.
For now, though, I close my eyes (reluctantly, almost entranced by the changing colors as the sun sets) and return back to the moment I first entered the tent. Eyes, electric blue and almost glowing (like Korian’s, at times), stared at me as I stumbled through the flap, any sense of self-assuredness vanished in the face of those eyes.
Power. All I could feel in the air was power, and as I hesitantly took the seat offered to me by thin hands, covered in faintly glowing symbols, I could almost see it in the air. A wise old voice, seeming to come from almost everywhere around me, instructed me to close my eyes, lay my hands upon the table, and just let the images wash over me.
“I saw battles, Kor. The same ones I’ve always seen, but more real. More there. I could see myself, in armor, fighting--I could see it all. Knighthood, serving at the king’s side, and I could almost hear the people screaming my name, feel the power racing through me, the spray of blood against my face,” I recount, reopening my eyes and drawing myself out of the past. Breathing out a sigh, I watch the stars rise into the sky, faintly illuminating the ground below, and glance over at Korian; his black eyes reflect the night sky, seeming far wiser beyond their years and far sadder.
“Did you still have nightmares?” he asks, softly, and I flinch a little before nodding. Still do. Great power, I remember--it comes at a price. The Great Seer’s words whisper through my mind, and I feel my stomach turn as the images of ravaged towns, bloody battlefields, and dark armies flit through my mind.
“They’ve only worsened, and no one understands. All they can see is who I will become, not who I am,” I whisper out into the night, as if afraid a breeze will carry my confessions far, far away to the ears of people who seek to tear at any insecurity. As sheltered from them as I am, the ever-present fear of showing weakness prevails, but Korian lays a hand on my arm and offers a sense of relief (and grounding reality).
“I see who you are,” he reminds me, and I nod, serious as I stare at him. He stares back, equally serious, and in this falling night, I feel something deep inside me shift. Everything I’ve ever thought myself loyal to fades away in the face of Korian. Deep inside, a nagging voice reminds me of all he’s done, but I push it away, far too tired and in need of comfort to try and continue any internal war over morals another second.
As we rest against the stone wall, the night sky fully sprawled above us, Korian recounts his own tales. He, too, had been dragged off to a higher Seer; apparently, his destiny lay in serving as a Court Mage, at the service of both the Great Seer and the Crown. In doing his duties one day, he stumbled upon a conversation (so he told me, though I do have a rather suspicious feeling he found this information through less appealing ways).
“The Seer was warning him of the consequences,” Korian softly recalls, his black eyes focused on something deep within him. “But he didn’t want to listen, it seemed. I remember the rage, the determination in his voice as he insisted upon the war, even if… the Seer had grown attached to you, somehow. Everyone always does. He didn’t want you to die in that war, but you would. The King called it your destiny; he didn’t care,” Korian hisses, his voice trembling with rage, and I lay a soothing hand on his shoulder as the leaves, dropped from those black branches and piled up over the years, begin to kick up in circles around the enraged, rail-thin male. Still, I feel a sense of sickness wash over me, and my world fades out for a short time as the information processes.
Death… it all clicks, somehow. The knowing sadness in the Great Seer’s eyes as I stood watch at his door, the cold distance of the King and the other Court Knights, the nightmares of dark shadows wearing crowns standing over me as I died… my stomach rebels. Stumbling, I separate myself from Korian, and what little food I have consumed escapes the sudden truth with a violence that leaves me trembling.
“Gods, I’m so sorry, Marvus. Come, you can rest with me tonight; the healers are all asleep by this hour. We can see them in the morning, and you can eat with the rest of us. If you want to leave, you can, but for your own sake, don’t return to the kingdom,” Korian worriedly suggests to me, his arms rubbing my back and gently urging my shaking form to my feet. I can only nod dumbly; reality seems too far away to grasp, my mind still floating in the past to really see the present.
A lie… I wipe my mouth on my tattered shirt numbly, hardly aware of what I am doing. It all shatters before me, and as pathetic as I feel to get so dumbfounded by what should be obvious (even the greatest of knights is but a pawn for the battlefield, after all, existing merely to get slain), I can’t pull myself out of the haze, even as hands gently pull my clothes off and carefully wash off the dirt.
I will rise above this, though. Shaking my head, I take a deep breath and, at least for the time being, submerge myself in the cold, cruel waters of reality. Shrugging on the offered shirt, I give Korian a weak smile and fondly run a hand through his messy charcoal-grey hair, and he watches me like one would watch a wounded animal, a mixture of pity and wariness in his eyes. My thumb traces the faint scar, a thoughtful frown pulling at my lips.
“I hated doing that to you; you never stopped being my favorite little skeleton boy,” I mumble, tiredness already slowing my thoughts to a crawl. Vaguely, I notice Korian’s expression both lighten and darken a little, and I watch guilt crawl into the inky depths of his eyes as he stares down at me. My eyelids droop, and I slump against the bed, little more than a pile of blankets and pillows on the ground. As I fall asleep, the images of gleaming swords, dancing fires, and rearing horses in shadowy mists envelop me, but for once, it seems like a symbol of my future glory instead of my current doom.
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