The next morning, the two men set off towards the village of Gerga.
Junas, riding his trusty old Bum (the donkey Bum), felt a little out of place: Doran, who, as he'd put it, was "far too wrinkly for a horseback jaunt", was just ahead of him, sitting comfortably inside a carriage.
The vehicle, led by a strong pair of Shire horses, hopped and swayed as the road, leaving behind Varelan, entered the forest. Doran, inside the bumpy carriage, spent the whole day reflecting on the situation.
I wonder if someone ever does any kind of maintenance on this roads, mah!
And Junas' story...
Well, you see, the Elder he wasn't actually convinced: there was a realistic chance that this was all a big misunderstanding. Not only that, but the odds of that kid having actually gone mad were quite high. Nonetheless, the old man wanted to believe.
He wanted to believe that, in a small village snug deep in the forest, magic had finally returned.
---
The carriage began slowing down, as it approached the long evening shadows of the first buildings in Gerga. Doran, with his trusty stick, jumped off, and the coachman helped the old man with the luggage.
Junas, just behind, jumped off of Bum - who was quite relieved by the familiar sight.
"Here we are, Elder Doran. This is the humble village of Gerga. Me and my family live in that little house over there. As for your accommodation, I hope you'll find that the tavern facing the square suits you."
"Ah, I see. Quite the humble village, yes..."
Junas, deciding it was best not to respond, escorted the man towards his house.
"So Junas, your son... Kona, correct?"
"That's right, Elder. Kona Valen, twelve years of age - well, he's almost thirteen. As I've told you, he was born with white hair and eyes."
"Ah, an albino, son! Your Kona is an albino. Quite interesting, indeed."
Just then, Eve, who was busy moving some plants outside, swung the door open.
"Junas! Oh, dear! You've made it back so quickly! Oh! Elder, welcome to our humble village! I am Eve, Junas' wife."
"Madame, it is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Doran. I must say, your husband has told me great things about you!"
(Well, Junas hadn't actually said a word about Eve...)
"Well then, tomorrow I'll visit Kona, as promised. It's getting late, and an old geezer such as me needs to rest. I wish you a wonderful night." said Doran, who was now heading towards the little tavern facing the square.
Ah, a tavern! This really brings back the good old days...
The next morning, the Elder knocked on their door, just as promised.
Eve, who'd been busy cleaning and tidying up te house, ran to the door:
"Ah, good morning, Elder Doran. I've prepared some food, if you're hungry."
"Ah! Wonderful, wonderful!"
The woman, slightly blushing in embarrassment, kindly let Doran inside, and the two of them sat down - Junas, after two days of absence, had to go to work, so he wasn't there. Sitting down, the Elder cleared his throat, a big grin already on his face:
"Alright, alright. Now! Where is the man of the house!?"
The resounding voice echoed through the small dwelling, but everything stood in silence.
In his room, Kona had heard everything: his parents' plan, the old man...
These last days... he'd felt so confused. The strange events in the ruins, the memory loss, his friends' passing and now, weird vision of swirling smoke.
So they've brought here one of those stupid scholars. Like he would know anything about this stuff, puah! Do they think I've gone mad?
In all honesty, Kona had no idea what to think.
You see, after waking up from the coma, he'd spent his days crying alone in his bedroom, and his mother's attempts at comforting him were of no use. There wasn't a night he'd sleep through without waking up in horror, as dreams of his deceased friends kept haunting him.
That feeling of guilt had seemed... insurmountable.
Then, two days ago, those visions arrived. At that moment, Kona felt completely lost - all of this was too much for a twelve year old.
Honestly, they may be right.
As these thoughts tormented him on his bed, a knock on the door suddenly shook him. A male voice echoed through the thin wood:
"Hello, Mr. Kona. The Royal Council has sent me! May I come in?" said Doran, with playful voice.
The boy was far too irritated for that stupid roleplay, so he decided it was best to ignore that geezer.
Slowly, the door creaked open, and a wrinkly bald man, with a weird stick in his hand, came in.
"Hello dear. My name is Doran, it is a pleasure to meet you. How are you doing today?"
Kona turned his head slightly, watching the old timer out of the corner of his eye.
This person... He really thinks he knows everything, uh. Why did he even bother coming in? I don't care about you, decrepit baldy. Just leave me alone...
As the little white-haired brat kept ignoring him, Doran stood in silence.
I should've expected this. He's been going through a lot of stuff, according to Junas' story, so I can't blame him. I'd react the same if a random stranger arrived, trying to act all nice, when not even a month ago my best friends died. I mean... the kid's only twelve.
He'd need another strategy, as it seemed that being friendly wasn't going to cut it.
"Listen, Kona. I will be honest with you, alright? But in return, you have to be honest with me. You got this?"
The kid frowned, but for once, he was actually looking at Doran. The man continued:
"Your father, he came searching for a doctor, a healer. You see, he told me all that has happened to you - quite the unfortunate story. Firstly, let me tell you one thing, although you probably won't care: whatever happened in those ruins, it's not your fault. You know, even though it doesn't look like it now, as a kid I was just like you."
The white haired boy, still frowning, lifted his head slightly.
"I used to love adventures, and stories of mages and monsters: me and my friends would always get caught up in some troublesome and dangerous endeavor. Kids are never at fault, Kona. We can only blame Fate."
The boy turned his head, drowning his face in the pillow.
"I know, young man. This doesn't make it any easier, but I needed to tell you, alright? Guilt son… Guilt will never bring your friends back, especially unmotivated guilt. There's only one thing that you can do now: move. Take a step, and then another one. And if you can't take a step yet, then crawl. But please, just move forward."
The boy, although he hadn't moved an inch, was now listening carefully.
"Do you think that your friends would want to see you like this? They wouldn't, son, I am sure. If you care about them, move forward, and honor them with your life."
Have I said too much…? I got a bit carried away…
Kona, however, had slightly tilted his head. This man, something about him… His words felt...
Doran then cleared his throat:
"Now, as you've probably guessed, your father also told me about those... visions? Correct? He said you described them as... swirling smoke, twisting around and through the house."
Kona, head sinking in the pillow, grunted, nodding slowly.
"If your descriptions are correct, son, there are three possible scenarios. Number one: you've lost your mind. This would be quite a difficult thing to fix! Number two: you've been cursed. It's possible I guess, but I don't really fancy this idea. And for last, number three, my personal favorite. It's a small chance, but..."
The old man pulled out a massive, hoary tome.
"If Fate decides to favor you, for once, then there's a small chance that you could... Well, that you could be the first mage in... let's see, in about a thousand years."
Kona's eyes widened.