Series: Son of Silvermoon

Son of Silvermoon, Part Six

It’s intended that you can’t tell what really killed Croatius’ mother, just as you can’t tell what really killed his father.

Author’s Note

He looked up at the manor front. It seemed smaller now than when he had been a child, as if he had grown or, perhaps, it had shrunk. The gates were twisted as if someone had rammed them with a siege engine, but they had ultimately stood against the Scourge’s assault. Croatius put a hand to them, and they instantly sprung open, still responding to his blood even though he hadn’t been to this place in centuries. Continue reading “Son of Silvermoon, Part Six”

Son of Silvermoon, Part Five

Croatius searched frantically for the flints in his father’s blue eyes, the pieces of madness that would spark and burn at the slightest provocation.

“Croatius. Don’t Argue. Just go.”

Ouch.

Author’s Note

“I made it for you, Father. For the holiday.”

Croatius cautiously pushed the little card onto his father’s desk. The quel’dorei stared at the boy from across the polished, black surface, his icy blue eyes full of impatience. Did Croatius see a little stir in there of something else? Not of fondness, or he dared not to hope it. Almost… recognition.

Recognition of what?

“Merry Winter’s Veil,” Croatius said with a dry voice, trying to put a bit of cheer into it, but the attempt fell flat. Continue reading “Son of Silvermoon, Part Five”

Son of Silvermoon, Part Four

“Thank you for coming so swiftly, Magister Runefire. The master understands how little you like being disrupted from your work–“

“Be quiet,” Croatius said sourly. “I want to see him now.”

The squire bowed and led Croatius deeper into the Blood Knight Enclave. They passed through several gauzy curtains, and Croatius felt by the shiver that passed over his skin that they were enchanted against intrusion. As they fell behind him, he knew that, while he could see out through the thin fabric, back towards the public quarters, no one could see in.

The squire’s pace quickened as they went down some stairs and turned a sharp corner. Containment cells lined this hall, many now occupied. Croatius didn’t even jump as one of the Wretched bounced off the invisible wall separating it from its visitors. Croatius couldn’t even tell its sex, its state of magical decay was so advanced. He scowled at the mindless monster, his own thoughts wandering…

“This cell, sir,” said the squire.

Croatius shook himself irritably and came to stand next to the squire, peering through the distortion of the ward. Evelos was inside, his wrists held tight together by a silver chain that dampened his magic and kept him tranquil. Still, the quel’dorei’s eyes opened as Croatius drew nearer, and the two once-friends stared at each other. Continue reading “Son of Silvermoon, Part Four”

Son of Silvermoon, Part One

When the magic finally stopped, Croatius once again opened his eyes, smiling lazily at Lanlyth. His master was frowning. Perhaps because he could not find a spell to truly best Croatius…?

Croatius was meant to be a foil for Evelos from the get-go, the villain to his heroism, and I knew I wanted something special for him as his story slowly unfolded. Continue reading “Son of Silvermoon, Part One”