Back to present
"Ahhh....it was then."
I wonder how many more scars i will get this year as the memory fades
Kael's body, a canvas of failure. A web of fine, silvery lines traced across his back, the legacy of his father's "lessons" in discipline when his magic refused to surface. One deep cut ran along his forearm, a memento from a sparring session with Valerius that went too far, a "training accident" that no one questioned.
He traces a finger over a particularly nasty set of burns on his left shoulder, a gift from mother, who believed a "purifying flame" might coax out any latent magic. Instead, it had only cooked the flesh, leaving behind a mess of scar tissue that ached whenever a storm brewed. The pain was a constant companion.
I am not a mage. I am not a warrior. I am a repository of pain, a living monument to the Veyrith family's disappointment.
But there was one thing i always liked... the study was the one place I was permitted to be, a forgotten corner of the colossal Veyrith library.
History. Philosophy. The books of everything about magic, swordsmanship, alchemy, These were the only things I could touch. I devoured books, my mind a desperate sponge soaking up the knowledge of others, because i couldnt do anything.
I tried swordsmanship till my bones broke, my hands bled, but.....i really have no talented at all.
I tried till my fingers bled to from the ether i used for mana in alchemy, my soul screaming for the connection every other Veyrith had been born with. Nothing. Just the cold, hollow echo of my own emptiness.
But here I am, weak to even move anymore, to enjoy the books that i so loved.
Would someone even come for me? to see how i am doing?
A floorboard creaked in the hallway outside.
My body tensed, a coiled spring of conditioned fear. It could be a servant, but this late, it was more likely my father, looking for an outlet for his rage. Or Valerius, seeking to remind me of my place with a few well-placed 'accidental' jabs. Or perhaps my mother, come to suggest another 'remedy' involving hot irons or bitter herbs.
I didn't move.
I barely breathed.
I became another piece of furniture in the dusty room, a forgotten bed.
The footsteps stopped outside my door. The silence stretched, thick and heavy.
Then
"I believe that useless child is sleeping" One of the Servants spoke
"Ahhh i see...lets go take some time off, its not like he deserves our time" Another Servant replied
Their voices, laced with the casual contempt I'd learned to recognize as my natural state, faded down the corridor. The knot in my stomach loosened, but only slightly. The respite was temporary. The judgment was permanent.
"Will....Nobody come to see how i am."
I grit my teeth, what did i even do to deserve this? I am just 13! I wanted to grow, help people. i wished for freedom....why....why....am i treated less than birds who can easily fly.
Am i less than an animal? that bird who flies freely.
"If even the servants wont come to see me, why would my mother and father would?"'
"Please help me....mother....i'm okay with your medicines.... but....please come see me..." i mumble to myself as i plummit to my exhuastion.
The night turns dark, Kael goes into deep sleep, the room goes quiet, even his breath feels muffled which slowly feel drifting away with the night.