Zepar looked down at the village elder of Grimcrest, feeling sickened by how much better he felt in that moment. "I want an answer, Elder Uru," he whispered coldly. The elder shuddered on the table, bloodied and burned by Zepar's torturous experiments. Zepar grimaced as the pressure inside him finally eased—only for the nausea to set in, forcing him to hold back the urge to retch.
"P-please...no more," Uru rasped.
"Then tell me, why does the whole village hate me? What sin am I guilty of?" Zepar raised his dagger, and Uru's eyes widened.
"Alright, alright I'll tell you," Uru relented. "You are the bastard son of a necromancer, Zardeem was his name."
Zepar let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding in. "I'm hated for being a bastard?" he asked incredulously. "That's not rare, there must be dozens of bastard children in Grimcrest alone. That can't be all there is to it."
"It's not because you're a bastard," Uru admitted. "It's because you're his bastard."
"What does that mean?" Zepar demanded.
"He arrived in Grimcrest, fancy tricks and charm," Uru spat. "Amira was smitten from her first glance."
"Amira...my mother?" Zepar pressed.
Uru nodded weakly. "He used magic to sweep her away—distant cities, endlessly blooming flowers." He spat in contempt. "Parlor tricks dressed as miracles." He took a deep breath. "And it worked, she left with him to be his wife." He glared up at Zepar. "Two years after they left together, Zardeem came back." He shuddered. "No Amira, just a baby. He left you with Amira's parents and just vanished."
"Amira's parents," Zepar hesitated. "The Blackthornes?" he growled. Uru nodded in confirmation, the Blackthorne couple who had looked after Zepar until he'd turned five. They'd known all along and had never told him. Zepar gritted his teeth. They had known. Every glare. Every whisper. They had known why. "What of my mother? Where is she?"
"According to Zardeem, she died giving birth to you," Uru whispered. "And that is your sin, Zepar Blackthorne." His eyes hardened. "You are the unnatural son of that unnatural man, wielding unnatural powers, made even worse by your first breath being Amira's last."
"So you, and all of Grimcrest, decided to punish a child for something he didn't even know about?" Zepar demanded quietly. He didn't wait for Uru to answer, he didn't need his response. Zepar drew his dagger across his throat, his breath quick and shallow as the light slowly faded from the bound elder's eyes. Zepar's hands hung limply at his sides, the dagger clanging onto the floor as he stepped stiffly out of the hut.
Zepar stood there for a moment, staring at the ground, his eyes wide with shock. He couldn't comprehend it, why he was a monster for something he had never done. After a moment, Zepar looked up and saw the other villagers gathered around him, wondering why he'd just come out of Uru's hut. His eyes narrowed as he felt a dangerous calm settle over himself. He had spent his entire life begging to be seen as human. Zepar was done begging.
"I know why you hate me now," Zepar declared coldly. "You judge me because of my father." He raised his hands, palms up toward the sky. "You've called me a monster my whole life," he said, forcing a demented grin to split his face. "Is this monstrous enough for you?" he sneered. His face hardened as spheres of flame began to blossom from his palms, scattering across the village.
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Zepar woke with a start, covered in a cold sweat and panting. His snow-white hair stuck to his forehead as he sat straight up in bed. Several deep breaths later, and he was mostly calm again, though shaken. That damned day still haunted him in his dreams, but it had still been months since he'd had that particular nightmare.
'Hard to believe it's already been two whole years since that day,' he thought bitterly.
With trembling fingers, he pulled the blanket off and made his way out of his dorm room. Here, the great wizard Edarin had taken him under his tutelage. Zepar draped the half cape, which marked him as Edarin's disciple, over his shoulders with a sigh. The deep purple color clashed horribly with his light brown tunic, but he could scarcely afford better clothes. One day he hoped to be able to drape himself in elegance.
'But for now, I look like a shabby pet...with a fancy collar,' he mused with contempt. Zepar returned to his dorm room and meticulously straightened the sheets and blanket on his bed before sitting cross-legged on the floor.
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply as he concentrated on drawing in the ambient mana. This was how mages built up their mana reserves. Like strengthening a muscle, a mage's mana pool could be expanded by gradually forcing small amounts of mana into already full reserve. Zepar had been using this method even before his master had told him that it was the standard practice. He still didn't have a clue what he would do with the power he was building. Edarin had actually asked him that very question the previous night, and Zepar was still unsure.
One thing he was sure of was that having enough power meant that he'd never be at someone else's mercy.
He sat there, continuing his mana cultivation for an hour before he heard the familiar ringing of a bell that signaled for him to join Master Edarin in the study. With a resigned sigh, Zepar stood and left his dorm room. On his way, he stopped by the kitchen to begin brewing a pot of jasmine tea. It was Edarin's favorite, and Zepar was quite fond of the tea as well.
A few minutes later, the sweet scent of the tea wafted up to him from the tray he carried as he approached the study. Two delicate porcelain cups, already filled with tea, sat beside the kettle, along with a small, wooden bowl of sugar cubes. Upon entering Edarin's study, Zepar simply set the tray down on the table before sitting down across from his master. As usual, the chessboard was already set and Master Edarin was waiting patiently, wearing a kind smile as he gestured for Zepar to make the first move.
"So, disciple—" Edarin began with a casual tone as he moved one of his pawns to block Zepar's. "Have you had enough time to consider my question from last night?" He arched an eyebrow as Zepar quickly took out his pawn, he'd expected this move, Zepar was always quite confrontational.
"Master, I've given it a lot of thought," Zepar replied slowly. "But I still don't have an answer." He sighed as he moved his knight to advance.
"You'll need to come up with something sooner or later, Zepar," Edarin warned. He made another move, and Zepar felt his brief victory faltering.
"Master, isn't it simply enough to have enough power to protect what's mine?" Zepar asked. Edarin didn't fail to notice the rare trace of vulnerability in Zepar's voice. His face softened as he held the gaze of his troubled disciple.
"Power alone is empty, Zepar," Edarin explained. "And while protecting what is yours is fine, isn't it a waste to use it only for that?" He smiled as he moved his queen, putting Zepar in check. "This applies to life as much as to magic, Zepar. Without purpose, everything is hollow." He smiled as Zepar tried moving his king out of check, a futile endeavor. Edarin moved his bishop into position and clapped his hands together in celebration. "Checkmate."
"You win again, Master," Zepar muttered. He was always bitter after their morning chess game. Zepar hated losing. He stood and put the chess set away and refilled his and Edarin's cups before returning to his seat.
"I admit, I'm a tad disappointed," Edarin complained softly.
"What do you mean, Master?" Zepar inquired. He was sure that Edarin was simply put off by the fact that Zepar still couldn't give him a challenge in chess.
"I cheated, and you didn't notice," Edarin commented haughtily. "That's no good. If you aren't aware of what your opponent is doing right in front of you, you will be little better than cannon fodder."
"Master, why would you cheat in the first place? Isn't it beneath you?" Zepar asked icily. Edarin fixed him with a solemn gaze as he pondered how to explain the lesson he was trying to impart to his disciple.
"Zepar, there are many dangers in our world that don't care about honor, dignity or etiquette," Edarin explained seriously. This was something Zepar was well aware of, but the lesson hadn't truly been hammered in yet. "Sometimes, Zepar...if you want to win, fighting fair isn't an option."
An hour later, Zepar strolled through the town with a soft smile. The town of Gilramore was one of the larger towns in the region, and it was Gilramore that Zepar now called home. Two years previously, when Zepar stumbled into town, he was near dead. He had travelled for miles without rest, water or food. Fortunately, his now favorite bartender found him. The rest, was history. Zepar stopped in the shade of a spruce tree and closed his eyes. 'This is what I wanted,' he thought to himself happily. 'Nobody stares, nobody avoids me. I'm just treated like...one of them.' He let out a contented sigh before continuing to walk.
Zepar stopped in front of the local fruit vendor and smiled. "Tom, good morning," he greeted the middle-aged man cheerily. "How's the wife?"
"Zepar, good morning," Tom replied with a grin. "She's over the moon. Did you hear the good news? I'm gonna be a father!"
"That's wonderful, Tom," Zepar exclaimed. Tom and his wife, Iris had been trying to conceive for a few years, and Zepar was truly happy for the couple who would finally be welcoming a new addition to their family. "I can't wait to meet the little one."
"Careful, I may just impose on you to babysit," Tom joked. "So, the usual?"
"That's right," Zepar said with a nod, ignoring Tom's joke about babysitting. He handed over a couple silver coins and accepted the large sack of apples from Tom. After bidding goodbye, he left and headed down the street towards his destination. Zepar plucked an apple from the sack and bit into it as he approached the Crimson Boar Tavern.
"Zepar, good morning," the elderly bartender greeted him after he entered the tavern.
"Boris, I keep asking you. What's so good about it?" Zepar joked. Boris was the very bartender who had found Zepar when he first arrived in Gilramore and had become a close friend ever since.
"Well, we're not dead yet," Boris shot back with a toothy grin. Zepar couldn't refute his words, so he simply shook his head helplessly before handing over the sack of apples.
"I'll have the usual, Boris," Zepar said as he took a seat at the bar. Boris nodded and stored the apples under the counter before pouring Zepar a tankard of apple ale.
"I gotta say, Zepar," Boris began in a contemplative tone. "You're really something. I can't believe none of us thought of making ale from apples before you suggested it." He eyed Zepar curiously as the latter took a deep pull from his tankard. "Just where do these ideas of yours come from?"
"Apple ale was fairly common where I grew up," Zepar muttered, trying to keep the tension from showing on his face as he thought of Grimcrest. "We actually had festival every year with many different delicacies that used apples." Hearing Zepar's explanation, Boris nodded his head in understanding.
"Are you ever gonna tell me where that is?" Boris asked. "I'd love to visit some time."
"F-far away," Zepar stammered, trying to calm his racing heart at the thought of his good friend learning what had happened to Grimcrest. Boris simply sighed in resignation. He'd known since the day they met that something bad must have happened in Zepar's childhood. Zepar never gave straight answers when asked about his former home. When he did give answers, they were always vague.
Zepar's attention was drawn to a conversation a few seats down and subtley moved a little closer to listen in.
"I can't believe it," one man whispered.
"Neither can I," the other agreed, a bit louder than his companion.
"So that guy Rio, he was the demon Malvario?" the first man asked incredulously.
"Yeah, apparently he'd taken human form to be with Annabelle," the second man confirmed. "And when the knight commander killed her, he blew himself up to kill him."
"Good for him," Zepar commented, leaning with his elbow on the bar as he sipped his ale. "He gave everything for love, and everything to punish the cretin who took his love away." The men turned to look at Zepar with dumbfounded expressions.
"I guess, but why would a demon go so far for a human?" the second man exclaimed.
"He wanted love," Zepar said with a dismissive shrug. "People are always going to crazy lengths for what they want." Hearing Zepar's words, the two men looked at eachother before turning back to him.
"So what would you be willing to do to get what you want?" they asked in unison. Zepar smirked at this question as he remembered his master's words.
"Whatever it takes."