{"id":673,"date":"2023-03-25T23:58:01","date_gmt":"2023-03-25T23:58:01","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/trove.aui.ma\/?p=673"},"modified":"2023-07-11T11:42:48","modified_gmt":"2023-07-11T11:42:48","slug":"our-darkest-sides","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/trove.aui.ma\/?p=673","title":{"rendered":"Our Darkest Sides\u00a0"},"content":{"rendered":"

He\u2019d never met strangers on the property.<\/span>
\nIt wasn\u2019t like he\u2019d entered the room on purpose\u2014the last time he\u2019d done that, he\u2019d gotten ten lashes for intruding on the masters\u2019 \u2018private talk\u2019 and \u2018being disrespectful\u2019 despite having gone on his knees to apologize like his mother used to do.<\/span>
\nNot that it had saved her from getting beaten to death, not so long ago.<\/span>
\nBut he could swear on his mother\u2019s unburied remains that he hadn\u2019t meant to go in this time. He had just come back from a particularly difficult picking session\u2014frostbane was useful, but a pain to find in the winter\u2014and had wanted to inform the house master that his only findings were feeble roots. He would get a lashing for that, too; he just hoped it would happen while the cold was still numbing his hands.<\/span>
\nNow, however, caught between the backdoor and the eyes of six people staring at him from the dinner table, his limbs froze even further. The master and his family were sitting with a stranger, and the child had been so busy pulling his bucket of pickings and hardening himself for punishment that he hadn\u2019t made out the new, different voice in their conversation, and now the stranger was seeing him and oh Saints he would not be feeling his skin tonight\u2014<\/span>
\n\u201cAnd the young man?\u201d the stranger asked.<\/span>
\nHis voice was\u2026soft. Deep, with an undertone of undisputed authority, but undeniably soft. Not something the child usually heard in this house.<\/span>
\n\u201cMy son,\u201d the master hastily replied, punctuating it with a laugh too loud to be genuine.<\/span>
\n\u201cWhatever was he doing outside in the cold?\u201d<\/span>
\n\u201cProbably trying to find some flowers he\u2019s read about,\u201d the master\u2019s wife replied with a smile. \u201cSaints know he loves to get his hands dirty.\u201d<\/span>
\nThe child\u2019s spine stiffened. Their son? His mother was dead serving these people. Flowers? Those were the poison plants they\u2019d made him find with his magic! He didn\u2019t even know how to read!<\/span>
\nWhy were they lying? If this man was only another one of their visitors, wouldn\u2019t they be proud to show him off as their possession? The powerful little mage turned slave?<\/span>
\nThe stranger\u2019s eyes were still on him, waiting for him to move, to speak. He couldn\u2019t, though. Not when he knew what this intrusion would cost him, not when the masters were eyeing him like they wanted him struck by lightning behind their civil smiles.<\/span>
\n\u201cCome in, child, you\u2019ll freeze. Come sit with us and tell me about those flowers.\u201d The stranger was smiling at him.<\/span>
\n\u201cHe\u2019ll freshen up first if you don\u2019t mind, Your Serenity,\u201d the master said, voice dripping with exaggerated politeness. \u201cEvalie, why don\u2019t you get your brother downstairs to wash up?\u201d<\/span>
\nHe felt his back tense again. Insults about his filthiness had never stung him like this before. But it was too late to react; the master\u2019s youngest daughter had stood up, her eyes flashing in brief fury. He knew this sixteen-year-old\u2019s fists better than he knew how many leaves were on a frostbane branch.<\/span>
\nBut the stranger had also stood up, making everyone freeze. He didn\u2019t look at them; he only had eyes for the child as he extended a welcoming hand toward him.<\/span>
\n\u201cCome sit with us,\u201d he repeated, as though the master had never spoken. \u201cWhat is your name?\u201d<\/span>
\n\u201cDe\u2019rion,\u201d the master replied instead. \u201cCome say hello before you go change, De\u2019rion!\u201d<\/span>
\nDe\u2019rion\u2014nothing, in his forgotten mother tongue. A mocking of his heritage. His name in this house, before and after his mother bled to death two storeys below.<\/span>
\n\u201cRowan,\u201d he spoke for the first time since he\u2019d entered. \u201cMy name is Rowan.\u201d<\/span>
\nThe family gaped at him like fish thrown out of the water. The magic stone on his earlobe\u2014that they had carved into his skin since he was old enough to walk\u2014tingled with heat at his act of defiance. He bit back a wince. He could already feel twenty other lashes coming for him later, but he would take that before he let them deform the last thing he had left of his mother.<\/span>
\n\u201cDon\u2019t be ridiculous,\u201d the master\u2019s wife said, eyes wild with something he\u2019d never seen on her before. \u201cNaming yourself after plants again? Silly boy. Excuse him, Your Serenity, the child has quite the imagination!\u201d<\/span>
\nThey all mimicked her laughter, eyeing him as if to dare him to speak up again. It would have worked, on any other day; he would have ducked his head and disappeared downstairs until one of them came to beat him back into his place.<\/span>
\nBut not today, because he finally saw it. In the way they were nudging each other, the way their voices were sickly sweet, the way they were looking at the stranger as though one wrong move would make him breathe fire at them.<\/span>
\nHe\u2019d seen that wild, frantic look on his mother so many times.<\/span>
\nThese people were afraid.<\/span>
\nIt didn\u2019t help that the stranger was still looking at him, his eyes full with a gentleness he had never gotten before\u2014not from the people who knew what he was, at least. The stranger pushed his chair away, and the laughter stopped immediately.<\/span>
\n\u201cSir?\u201d<\/span>
\nHe walked over to Rowan, his steps deliberately slow. The child kept his eyes on the floorboard, bracing himself in case something, anything, struck him by surprise.<\/span>
\nInstead, the man kneeled in front of him and slowly took his hands. They hadn\u2019t warmed from the frost yet, and were still dirty from mud and blood crusts in places where thorns and sharp leaves had pricked him.<\/span>
\n\u201cWill you look at me, Rowan?\u201d<\/span>
\nHe did. The man\u2019s gaze was\u2026knowing.<\/span>
\n\u201cHow old are you?\u201d<\/span>
\n\u201cDe\u2019rion,\u201d the master warned.<\/span>
\n\u201cEleven,\u201d Rowan replied.<\/span>
\nThe stranger began rubbing soft circles on the skin of his hands. His fingers were warming up, like the blood was flowing back into them.<\/span>
\n\u201cAnd what were you doing outside?\u201d<\/span>
\nRowan swallowed, resisting the urge to look back at his owners. The stone on his ear was burning stronger now. \u201cI pick plants for the masters,\u201d he said. \u201cHe sells them as poisons and remedies on the forbidden market.\u201d<\/span>
\nSomeone gasped, and a fist slammed down on the dinner table.<\/span>
\n\u201cHalf-witted child!\u201d the master yelled. \u201cWhat are you on about? Evalie, take him downstairs or\u2014\u201d<\/span>
\nThe stranger\u2019s eyes never left Rowan, but his gaze hardened. \u201cWhere is your mother?\u201d<\/span>
\nAlways clean your hands after picking, Rowan.<\/em>
\nIt wasn\u2019t him\u2014it was me! I forgot to cut out the poison berries!<\/em>
\nMother will always love you, my sunflower.<\/em>
\nRowan\u2019s breath hitched as tears pricked his eyes.<\/span>
\n\u201cThey killed her,\u201d he whispered.<\/span>
\nHe choked on a sob, his hand flying to his ear to ease the piercing pain of the magic stone. The stranger\u2019s hand followed his, and for a moment Rowan\u2019s ear went numb; when he opened his eyes, he felt no pain, the stone was sitting in the stranger\u2019s palm.<\/span>
\nIt was then that Rowan noticed the emblem of the twin suns embroidered on the man\u2019s collar. Your Serenity.<\/em><\/span>
\nA cleric of the Saints.<\/span>
\n\u201cPack your things,\u201d the stranger said simply.<\/span>
\nRowan obeyed, still sniffling, and headed downstairs. He only had one sack\u2014a few layers of fabric that his mother had stitched together for him, in case they ever gathered enough goods to run from this cursed house. He grabbed it and threw in it his only change of clothes along with his mother\u2019s old notes.<\/span>
\nThat\u2019s when the screaming started.<\/span>
\nIt quickly died out, followed by the rough sound of heaving objects hitting the ground. For a moment, Rowan remained frozen, remembering his mother\u2019s tales about the blessed the clerics of the Saints. People empowered by the holy pillars themselves; people who could make light out of darkness and hear truth from lies.<\/span>
\nPeople who turned sinners into dust, and the stranger was one of them.<\/span>
\nHe climbed back up the stairs slowly. Would he die too, for having served these people with his magic? Would he pay for the poisons they had sold and the lives they had taken? Would the Saints at least let him join his mother?<\/span>
\nThe stranger was quietly waiting for him by the backdoor, his stance straight, his clothes immaculate.<\/span>
\nThere was blood on the ceiling and the walls behind him.<\/span>
\nWhen Rowan reached the top of the stairs, the strangers was standing as if to shield him from the view. He wrapped Rowan in his large black cloak and hoisted him up into his arms.<\/span>
\n\u201cIt\u2019s alright,\u201d he said with a gentle smile. \u201cYou have nothing to fear anymore.\u201d<\/span>
\nRowan stared at him. \u201cWhy were you in the master\u2019s house?\u201d<\/span>
\n\u201cI was looking for you. One of our priests bought an extract of marigold heavily tainted with magic a few days ago, and we tracked down the seller to make sure he wasn\u2019t hiding a mage somewhere.\u201d Then, in a lower tone, \u201cI\u2019d heard about mage slaves in this region. The audacity, knowing the High Temple protects them.\u201d<\/span>
\n\u201cYou are a cleric,\u201d Rowan said with a hint of awe.<\/span>
\nThe stranger\u2019s eyes twinkled with delighted surprise. \u201cI am,\u201d he replied. \u201cMy name is Adriel, and I serve Saint Valhenya. Do you know about the Saints, Rowan?\u201d<\/span>
\n\u201cMy mother used to tell me stories, before\u2014\u201d Rowan bit his lip. \u201cThe masters hated when I tried asking them about it.\u201d<\/span>
\n\u201cThey are not your masters. They never should have been.\u201d The man shook his head. \u201cWill you come with me to the Temple? There are many people like you who would love to meet you.\u201d<\/span>
\nRowan hesitated. He had already been left once; he barely knew the cleric, but he was the first person in a long time to look at Rowan with sympathy rather than contempt.<\/span>
\n\u201cWill you not stay with me?\u201d he asked in a small voice.<\/span>
\nThe stranger\u2014Adriel\u2014smiled. \u201c<\/span>Only if you want me to.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

He\u2019d never met strangers on the property. It wasn\u2019t like he\u2019d entered the room on purpose\u2014the last time he\u2019d done that, he\u2019d gotten ten lashes for intruding on the masters\u2019 \u2018private talk\u2019 and \u2018being disrespectful\u2019 despite having gone on his knees to apologize like his mother used to do. Not that it had saved her … Continue reading “Our Darkest Sides\u00a0“<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":14,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":"","_ppma_block_editor_authors":""},"categories":[44],"tags":[],"ppma_author":[38],"class_list":["post-673","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fantasy"],"authors":[{"term_id":38,"user_id":14,"is_guest":0,"slug":"rim-ziani","display_name":"Rim Ziani","avatar_url":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/e98b36a92db4c26f25d61781429f44b346d9cc1d983500231ba6078436a8fa4b?s=96&d=mm&r=g","author_category":"","user_url":"http:\/\/trove.aui.ma","last_name":"Ziani","first_name":"Rim","job_title":"","description":""}],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/trove.aui.ma\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/673","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/trove.aui.ma\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/trove.aui.ma\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/trove.aui.ma\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/14"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/trove.aui.ma\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=673"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/trove.aui.ma\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/673\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1294,"href":"https:\/\/trove.aui.ma\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/673\/revisions\/1294"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/trove.aui.ma\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=673"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/trove.aui.ma\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=673"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/trove.aui.ma\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=673"},{"taxonomy":"author","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/trove.aui.ma\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fppma_author&post=673"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}