Evelos squinted at his father. Was he even real? Or had Evelos just fallen into another part of the Trial?
The red-haired magister had left him again. Evelos realized a few moments later that he couldn’t see because he had closed his eyes, but he didn’t remember doing so. Still, he opened them again, and found he was lying in a bed chamber. The furniture was simple but elegant, like one would put in a guest room or an infirmary. He sat up. His father was sitting on a chair beside him, bent over with his fingers laced together as his hands dangled between his legs. He looked up hopefully as Evelos stirred. Continue reading “Trials, Part Six”
“I’m not making this up,” the magister continued, her voice seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere. “This is all you. Your own dreams and fears given form.”
The doorway opened onto a hall. Numerous other rooms and doors led off of it, but these were as deserted as the hall itself. Mostly. Continue reading “Trials, Part Five”
Dutifully, Evelos went to stand beside the weapon racks, waiting for one of the magisters to appear and tell him what he was supposed to do.
Nothing exciting happened the next day, unless one counted the fact he was finally here, taking part in an age-old tradition. His father had bid him goodbye and given him a hug, and now Evelos stood waiting his turn as the presiding magisters looked over their lists of names and sorted the waiting youths into different groups, presumably to take different Trials. Continue reading “Trials, Part Four”
“It is an honor to defend our people, Evelos. You would do well to remember that.”
“Is it also an honor to raise a son and have a happy family?” Evelos countered.
“I am not Keelath. Not the one you remember. I never will be again.”
This scene was based on and uses pieces of the song “Memory” by Andrew Lloyd Weber. Perhaps in time when I clean this up as a stand-alone original work, I’ll write in my own poem, but in its fanfiction form, I figured pulling from two well-loved inspirations wouldn’t go too awry. Continue reading “Reunion”
“How did he take the news?” Mirium asked.
“He’s nervous, as might well be expected…”
Evelos blinked several times, face twisting in pain. Croatius felt a sudden impatience for his old friend. Had everyone lost their minds to their grief but him?
“You can’t make him into your brother,” Mirium said quietly. “Evelos is Evelos. Not you.”
Croatius scoffed at the demon. “If not slain, the fallen magister would have proven a danger to the entire city. I was doing my duty.”
He didn’t much like children, with their sticky fingers and runny noses. That his brother’s toddler showed no inclination to meet him was just fine by him.