“Magic comes from different sources,” Enfys explained. “Most often it is granted to us, usually by deities or fey or demons. They are the ones to choose the powers you gain. That is why some are healers, and some have powerful defenses or skills in battle. There are diviners, illusionists, enchanters, necromancers, and so many more, and all of them have abilities that are unique to them. It is all a matter of who grants the power, and what it is they bestow upon you, and how you come to use it.”
There was a pause—one that Kai had been expecting, had been waiting for anxiously.
“There are cases, though,” he went on, “of innate abilities—ones passed on by blood, just like other physical traits might be. It isn’t common, but it’s definitely not unheard of.”
“Like mine?”
Enfys nodded. “Like yours.” Gently, he rested a hand atop Kai's. “I know you don’t like your abilities, necessarily, but they’re—no, you are extraordinary.”
Kai’s hand burned pleasantly, the heat radiating from Enfys’s palm permeating his skin and warming his entire being. He felt the same heat on his cheeks, felt his heart beat a little more quickly than normal.
“That’s not true,” he mumbled, hushed and bitter. “They’ve done more harm than good.”
Sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he could see the expression of cold hatred on his mother’s face, occasionally replaced instead by a sneer of disgust, like he was vermin in her house. He was just a reminder of her mistakes, after all.
“No one has really told you how amazing it is, what you can do, have they?” Enfys asked, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, peering at him earnestly and a little sadly—but not with pity, just a pain at the thought of Kai’s suffering. Kai shook his head. “You’re extraordinary, Kai. Truly remarkable. But even if you dont’ want to take my word for it, there is an irrefutable truth to it. Your magic proves you have fey blood in you, after all.”
Kai tilted his head at that, frowning slightly. “I thought elves had fey blood,” he said, nodding at the dark elf.
Enfys just chuckled. “In a sense. Elves are meant to be distant descendants of the fey, I suppose,” he allowed. “But you, your magic… that is something that elves do not possess. It is truly unique.”
Kai wanted to laugh at that—after all, it was hardly unique if it was in fact something that had been passed down to him by blood. Still, that didn’t mean he had ever met his magical counterpart either.
He could just faintly remember asking his mother, when he was still young—could remember how she’d spit at him and sneered and told him ‘even if I told you what he looked like then, you’d never find that bastard now’, had said that he ‘shed his skin like a snake’ and he wouldn’t be recognized.
And then, the man who raised him—the man he acknowledged as his father—had reprimanded her, and had taken Kai out to the barn, teaching him how to take care of the chickens while he worked out in the fields. Kai had seen the smile and how it hadn’t reached his eyes; he was a man so full of love and pride for the child he treated like his own, and yet still so sad and pained.
It was then that Kai had decided to leave home the moment that he could, a secret he carried alone until the very day he left; and that was what had eventually brought him to Enfys.
Enfys squeezed his hand again, smiling at him—a smile that was so kind and gentle, so genuine and honest, so lovely. Kai wanted to ask him how he could be so certain of such things. He wanted to ask why he was so adamant that Kai feel the same way about his abilities. He wanted to ask about Enfys and how he’d learned what he did, and what he could teach him.
Kai wanted to ask if Enfys knew that he was magic himself, not because of his own powers, but with those precious smiles he shared with him.
“Yeah, I know some magic.” Roszondas’s voice was guarded, almost skeptical of Kai’s motives in asking. They narrowed their eyes at Kai, frowning slightly, as though trying to decide if he truly posed any threat.
But Kai shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly, the words coming out in a stumbling rush. “I didn’t mean—it’s just that I’m fascinated by magic. I studied—” He broke off, the uncertainty again creeping in, not knowing if Roszondas was truly friend or foe—while they’d certainly helped him and showed compassion, Enfys’s warnings of enemies in the outskirts of the city still rang in his ears. He wanted to hold off before mentioning Enfys’s name. “I studied under an archmage,” he said instead. “He trained me, some.”
Roszondas relaxed just slightly at this, raising their chin appraisingly. “Then you’ve got magic, too?”
Again Kai hesitated. “Some,” he said. “But not… not like him. I wasn’t very good at the magic he knew.” He glanced down, the sense of regret still heavy in his stomach—thinking of how he’d prayed and cried and begged the Lady of Fate, Ealda, for something as he’d held Enfys.
But still, the goddess who’d blessed Enfys with his own abilities seemed not to hear Kai’s call for help.
Kai wondered how it was possible that the moment had only been at most an hour or two ago, and yet it could still feel like days—like years. He tucked a piece of hair behind his ear, eyes closing for just a moment as he reminded himself to breathe. He wanted a moment to properly think, to process everything that had happened—and yet, the idea of being alone with his thoughts again was terrifying. He wasn’t sure he could handle it. He wasn’t ready for it to be real.
When Kai directed his attention back at Roszondas, they were looking at him, clearly thinking over what he’d just told them; he wanted to say something else, uncomfortable at the sudden scrutiny and attention. But to Kai’s surprise, they did not press him on the subject. Instead, they gave a nod, then turned back to their concoction; the liquid inside the flask had changed to a deep blue hue, no longer the consistency of hot liquid tar. They held it out to Kai, who eyed it uneasily.
“It isn’t poison,” they assured Kai, but their tone was lacking sincerity, flat and toneless. If anything, it made Kai even less certain than before.
“Then what is it?” Kai asked.
“A tonic of sorts,” Roszondas replied. “It helps ease nerves and should fix any pain.”
Kai took the glass with hesitation, peering inside. The contents didn’t bear any qualities that immediately screamed danger, but still, he wasn’t sure. This was not his specialty—nor had it been Enfys’s. Enfys has worked with technology, inventing devices and utilizing magic to create things that others never would have dreamed of. As a result, that was what Kai knew best, as well. Not this—not tonics and potions and elixirs and draughts.
He thought of his other options. He thought of the empty tower awaiting him. He thought of Enfys.
And really, what did he have to lose?
Kai raised the flask to his lips and tilted his head back, swallowing the liquid quickly to avoid the taste. He shuddered slightly at the flavor on his tongue regardless, clenching his teeth to avoid gagging. The taste made him think of loose earth and dried leaves, something artificially sweet to try and cover up the overwhelming bitterness, all while leaving a metallic tang behind. He grimaced at it, then shoved the flask back at Roszondas, as though he wanted to get it as far away from him as possible.
The half-orc immediately began to rinse out the flask, and Kai took a seat. He had to admit that almost at once the pain in his head and back began to ease, and he felt a little calmer, his mind clearer. Still, he half-expected some other ill side effect, if given enough time, and he waited for it, expected it, on edge.
“So, ‘Just Kai’,” Roszondas said after a short while, and Kai glanced back up at them. They dried their hands on a rag, then set it down beside their workspace. “Do you need me to take you somewhere, mate? At least back to the city wall? Can you get yourself home if I take you there?”
Home. Kai wondered if the tower really was home now, without Enfys there. Still, where else did he have to go? That was all he’d had since he’d left Riviel six years ago—and he definitely had no intentions of going back there.
“Sure,” he said, but even so, the idea seemed unappealing. Still, he knew he had to face everything sooner or later. He could not avoid Enfys’s death and all it entailed forever. And while Roszondas and their small home offered a strange sort of comfort, there was still the strong sense of unease that came along with it, unsure if he could—or should—really trust the half-orc. “The city walls should be fine,” he went on. “Thank you.”
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