#synric

mentions: @divergent-lines           

Synric arrived four hours before dawn at the library. The amount of people was to be expected for a village mostly composed of night villagers; a few students sat in chairs and tables reading studiously while taking notes, a parent with an older child wander around browsing, and lastly, a small group of people who weren’t reading any books at all, but where seemingly just playing cards games, and practicing magic in quiet manners with occasionally giggling and whispering.

            The library was busier than the first time. Synric found it refreshing and yet curious. The far group, practicing magic and playing cards, held his lingering gaze. There where three men and two women; they looked to be his age, lacking the tattoos. One of the women spotted him, stalled, causing the other too look, then all three men. Synric found himself himself turning away and choosing to find the quickest exit out of their sight--that path was the countertop where the librarian stood, hunched over a open book, with a pair of reading glass.

            The librarian was a woman with light purple hair, a few decorated flowers strewn in that were more jewelry than real flowers despite how real they looked. She wore a simple summer dress of modest design. The glasses glowed ever so faintly as she read her book, then her eyes shifted to the a piece of paper beside and wrote fluid darnassian. Curiosity got the better of Synric as he walked by the counter. He intended a passing look, but when he saw that the book had no letters written on it, he stopped.

            The librarian looked up without moving her head. She frowned firstly, then her eyes brighten with a smile. “Ronan?”

            Syrnic blinked at her, before remembering to offer a smile in return. “Hello," he inclined his head.

            She chuckled softly, closed the book, and took the glasses off; they hung around her neck from a stone string. “I heard the rumors you returned. Khadris told me how it was all true you had forgotten everything.” She eyed him up and down as Synric seemed stupefied by this revelation, she continued more apologetic, “You’re greeting tells me everything.” She said with a lofty sigh. “You look better though. So maybe it wasn’t for the worse that you forgot." Her pause came reflectively, "Do you know what happened?”

            Synric blinked, feeling a faint heat of embarrasement take to his cheeks as he glanced towards the tables and the other people nearby. No one was looking, but their actions had slowed somewhat and the air felt quieter as if listening.

            He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t,” he said feeling the familiar comfort of the words he'd been repeating this last week. “What was your name again?”             Her smile was soft, but sad, “Oh, of course,” She offered a hand to him. He hesitated, before taking it. “Lenne Farhelm, I’m Khadris assistant, and student,” she winked.

            “Student?”

            She nodded easily, “Not my Shand’o,” she clarified, “He doesn’t take official students, as you…” she cut herself off, shaking her head as she straighten herself up more professional. “Well, I help with the task here and he teaches me what I need to do to help.”

           Synric reflected back to earlier that week when he ran into Khadris, how the librarian had mentioned him being a student as well. “Does he have more ….students?”

            Lenne gave a soft, knowing smile. “No, he is very particular of who he teaches, but, he can’t run the library day and night.” She snickered.

            “He works the day?” He questioned, but the certainty of his voice only made her smile and nod.

            “He starts an hour before dawn.” She took in a breath. “Anyways, do you need help finding anything? Strange to ask you that,” She added under her breath.

            “No, I…” he glanced at the tables momentarily, but he couldn't see the group of five from where he stood. "I was wondering...."

She raised her hand. He stopped. “You don’t need my permission. Let me know if you need help,” she said as she put her glasses back on and started reading before taking her notes once more.

            Synric watched for a moment before he turned, deciding to walk around. He wandered to the far back, where there seemed to be no people around, and there was a deeper silence. His eyes took in the titles, the different binders of the books, the letters written on them, but his mind was trying to remember why exactly he wanted to come here.

This morning was mostly a blur of exhaustion and emotions, but it had been for research. Had it been about runes? Some sort of device for mana control? He wished he could recall, but the clearest memory he had was the mana stones and the feeling of the magic returning to him, before falling asleep and waking up to Sabina, the druid, arriving at the house to offer aid for Talren condition.

           Strangely, the druids touching Talren still didn’t settle well with him despite having thought of asking Faelynn if she would entertain the idea to try Selise or Nairus for a second, outside, opinion. He trusted them both, but now that a stranger offered to help, he couldn't help but think what could a druid do for Talren issues? The nightmare had attacked his soul, attempting to devour and twist who he was, what was so different about him versus Talren? Just the length of time? That he still was cursed, and the two magics simply did not match?

And there was still the nagging issue in the back of his mind about the light magic used to keep Talren alive and unchanged through it all.

            Decided, Synric forgo the idea of research into runes and regents to figure out a way to make a device that helped him identify when he was losing mana or not, and instead started looking towards corruption and nightmare magic.

In a span of ten minutes, he had found five books. Two where scentific and moral research into the darker magic, theories and idea where it came from, and what it did to an individual, but it felt all superificial; in a sense, it was cherry picked for students required to learn and nothing more. The other three had been, in a sense, children stories disguised as papers and books about the subject.

            By the time he got through the first two, he had a feeling he had already read all of these, and that there was nothing here for him to learn. Despite that, he spent the next four hours reading the last three books he had chosen.

He was skimming through the last one, about hundred pages left, when a knuckle knocked on the table he was sitting at. Startled, Synric focused up and towards Khadris. The head librarian gave a smile in greeting, his silver eyes shifting towards the books Synric had piled to the side, then to the one he had in his hand. “You know,” the man’s smooth voice began, “You have read these before.”

Synric gave the lightest frown as he looked at the book, then closed it slowly. “I came to that conclusion within the first hour.”

Khadris chuckled, “And yet you still read them. Did they seem new to you?”

Synric shook his head. “I figured it didn't hurt to re-read them in case anything new seemed to stand out, just in case.”

Khadris laughed at that. “Marvelous, despite the memory lost, you still keep to your old habits. Not to say I'm studying you” he seemed to apologize, proudly though, at Synric narrowing gaze. “I just have never known someone before that has had full amnesia, and research only takes you so far, the real experience is what is important.” He said in a rather teacher like fashion. Synric relaxed. He gave a short nod. “Those sound like familiar words."

Khadris seemed to relax with him, taking a breath. “I am told I do like to repeat myself." The silence began too grew between the two, and so Khadris wasted little time in walking over and reaching for the book Synric had closed beforehand. “The information you probably want is in the other room. I showed you how to get in there beforehand?” Khadris raised his voice in question as he sat that book upon the pile beside him.

Synric nodded, “Yes, sorry, I….” Khadris shook his head. “You have proven even now that you are the same man I knew beforehand. You have my permission, and if anyone has issues, they can speak with me.” He picked up the stack of books, all five. “I---I can put them away,” Synric said quickly, standing.

Khadris paused, eyeing him up and down. They stood equally tall beside each other, obviously so, and with Synric younger look, almost teenager like appearance, Khadris felt himself become wary. He gave a polite smile as he siad, “Do you remember where these go?”

Synric gave him an odd look, but no further explanation came as Khadris handed him the books. “It is my job to make sure they go back accordingly, so please,” He said and stepped back, ushering a hand out for Synric to move ahead.

Synric eyed the elf, then went and started his way to the section he had gotten the books.

They were located in several different areas. Yet, Synric had no issues finding them, taking no wrong turns or seconds guesses. He adjusted the books accordingly before sliding them in their spots, and the last few had been located in the quieter place of the library at the top shelf that required him to stand on tip-toes to reach.

Khadris gave a pleased nod, then said, “You by chance know where the the book called Alchemy and Spirits is located?” The question garnered a curious look from Synric, and it felt much like a test, but he didn’t think much further on it. He knew the book was located in the third aisle, bottom shelf, a quarter of the way down on the left. As he knelt to read the titles, he paused; it was indeed the alchemy section for books but none held the title. He frowned lightly wondering if maybe he had been mistaken. Khadris smiled fatherly at him before he could think too long. “It has been missing for weeks. I have yet to determine if someone snuck it out or it has been misplaced,” he said softly.

Synric eyes went wide and he stood up quickly, “I promise you I don’t have any…” Khadris laughed, “Easy son,” he said and set a hand on Synric shoulder. “It disappeared after your own disappearance.” Then stepping back, eyed Synric up and down again. “How have you been adjusting back to the village?”

Synric gaze lingered on Khadris for a moment, then looked towards the rows of shelves. “I am learning.”

Khadris expression dimmed into stoicism, “And have you learned about your hunting parties and the odd jobs you did around the village?” Synric looked back, giving him another curious look but shook his head. “I am still healing,” he said motioning his hand out in explanation.

Khadris kept his gaze steady on him before he said, “Well, if your healing doesn’t mind helping here in the library, I do not mind the extra help from time to time.”

Mentions: @divergent-lines​ @kaelenar​

Jacorek checked the house over. The windows were sealed, the doors locked, and there were no cracks or holes in the walls. He gave a single nod as he stepped out of the door, paused before fulling departing, and looked over his shoulder. A small smile couldn’t be kept from his lips. Synric was glaring at him from the table, hands still bound by the cuffs, but at least he looked somewhat normal now with a new white linen shirt and blue pants, and he was all washed up giving way to the clear lingering purple bruises.

Jacorek couldn’t help but remember their conversation when they first arrived at this house. It was located away from other people; a farm abandoned due to the orc invaders.

“This? You really think…” Synric had stopped, probably realizing that his chances of escape had gone up incredibly in his favor and didn’t want to ruin such a chance. 

“Here’s how it's going to go in the minds of our enemies.” Jacorek began as he shoved Synric in. The young man gave a huff as he stumbled forward.  “They failed to get you out. So they are expecting two things from me. One, I’m going to move from the hideout and go somewhere deeper and harder to find. Maybe with friends, maybe somewhere else entirely using magic and such to cover my tracks; either way its going to be difficult to find you. Or two, I’m going to reinforce the caves so that it's all but impossible to navigate without having a mind too where all the traps are, and even then you may not be in there! But man won’t it be a risk worth taking if you were and they cleared each trap?” He mused as he sat down his bag on the table, looking at the dirty and disheveled skinny young half elf. Synric was wearing a hood of course accompanied by a long jacket so it made him appear to be more a druid or possibly a tall monk. 

Jacorek had heard what had happened from Synric. How this odd man came in, blew up the runes by being ultimately foolish, and had practically knocked himself out. Synric had tried saving the man, but the man had turned violent on him and threatened to harm him. Too which, Synric said he couldn’t remember what he had done or said afterwards at least until Jacorek had shown up. 

The description of the man matched a familiar one he had seen with Mey, but if that was true, Mey was definitely playing a dangerous game, which also had him thinking that maybe, just maybe, she was going to betray him in the end.

He had a lot to think of and was finally excited to dump the boy here in this house.

“If it was me,” Synric began referring to his line of what his enemies would do.

Jacorek hushed him with a single wave of his fingers. “My offer still stands boy. Once Mey has brought me what I want, you’re free to leave.” He digged through his bag taking out portions of food and small canisters of water. 

Synric was silent. He always was for a few minutes whenever Mey’s name was mentioned. Then Synric shifted, eyes darting around the home. “So we are becoming roommates then?” He began slowly. 

Jacorek shook his head. “You will be living here. My base of operation will still be in that cave.” He hummed for a moment. “And don’t think you won’t be unguarded.” He said again drawing a chair and sitting in it, both feet came up on the table.

Syrnic eyes drew to his feet and the young man frowned. “How so?” 

“How so?” Jacorek mulled on the word. “Same way you were guarded beforehand.”

“Runes?” Synric quirked a sharp smile. “Don’t you think that’s a little odd if anyone shows up?”

The walk had done Synric good. At first he seemed nervous, uncertain, shying away from noises and such. Something that always occurred to captives stuck in a dark basement for a few months. But eventually he had returned to normal and the desire to escape had overcome him again. Jacorek had stopped him only once, beat him to the point that he was bruised and hurting enough that the next day’s walk was slower and had a lot more breaks.

Synric hadn’t tried to escape again.

And the people they did manage to pass by, Synric’s voice was silenced by the bounty of the half elf named Ronan, description and all.

Jacorek had assumed his enemies would hear those rumors, so several times he would misdirect these people and say he was traveling to Stormwind to turn in the bounty, going to Ironforge because it was close, or turning him into the nearest guard station until further notice.

He didn’t figure it was fool proof, so he had taken a deserted road through the canyons and horde territories and hadn’t reappeared on anyone's radar for days until he showed up alone in Stormwind.

Jacorek shrugged and rose to his feet. “I’d be surprised if someone did,” he said softly, “After all there are several orc camps nearby and most people ignore this route due to ambushes.”

There was a brief silence. “And what if they decide to meddle with your runes?”

Jacorek quirked an eyebrow. “Hopefully for you, they don’t, otherwise better pray I’m nearby.” He grinned madly before laughing. 

That had been the end of the conversation followed by a quick show of the house too which came with a mattress, running water, and stocks of food. The clothing and other essentials came later the next day.

A week had passed since then, and the routine had become ingrained. Jacorek checked his runes, Synric watched with a glare, and then he would leave. He would return to the caverns, warm the fire while walking along a different route in the caverns leaving breadcrumbs here and there for anyone deciding to show up again. Then he returned to Stormwind, as he always did even before he moved Synric, to view bounties and hear any callings for a mercenary looking for blood. Two or three days later, Jacorek returned to  find that the young man was still alive, sane, and surprisingly well cleaned. One time, he had actually walked in and he could hear the boy singing in the upper rooms where the sunlight was heaviest. His voice was soft, smooth, and elegant. A voice that would catch ears in a tavern and silent voices.

"Morning, Cherysa." She called from the back room.

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, three loud knocks sounded on the front door. Selise pulled her pocket watch and frowned. "Unless it's an emergency, tell them to come back in an hour." With that, she turned back to her work.

Cherysa returned the Doc’s greeting with her own cheerful “Morning!” The red head set the book she’d borrowed from Selise’s library on her desk and began doffing her coat to hang up when the knocks sounded. Selise’s instructions had her nodding as she called back “Right” and moving to the door. She opened it a crack and peered out. “I’m sorry we open in an hour,” she stated as kindly as she could while looking to ascertain if it was in fact an emergency.

Two men stood on the stoop, both in full Stormwind Guard armor. The one that spoke had his helm tucked under his arm.

"We understand ma'am, but we have some questions that might be better asked before your customers arrive. May we come in?"

The guard behind him leaned forward and muttered something which had the speaker nodding. He looked back to Cherysa with an even gaze.

Cherysa’s smile stayed in place and she ushered the guard into the waiting room. “Oh, I...of course officers. If you will wait here I’ll get the Doc.” Chery closed the door behind the two men and with a quick glance over her shoulder to ensure they stayed in the waiting area hurried back to where she knew the doc was working. 

“Doc, there’s two guards here say they have questions better to be answered before we open.” She said it in a breathy rush as she came into the lab. “They are in the waiting room.”

Selise rose her head at the sound of footsteps, some annoyance building in the back of her mind as she imagined what supposed emergency might be coming through the door. She was already on her feet when Chery entered the room.

"They do, hm? Come on." Curiosity had replaced her annoyance by the time they stood in front of the two men.

"Doctor Graves, pardon the early visit. My name is Specialist Graham and this is Private Rell." He motioned to the man that had yet to remove his helmet.

Sel glanced briefly at Rell and nodded. "We've met. My assistant, Cherysa Amberstill." She motioned at Chery. "What is so pressing that it couldn't wait until office hours?"

Graham began to unroll a sheet of parchment and turn it towards the two women as he spoke. "This man is wanted for investigation. We have information that one or both of you have had contact with him in this office. When was the last time you saw him?" He settled his gaze on Cherysa as he finished speaking.

The document he held out was a wanted poster with a drawing of a hooded man, identified as Ronan, followed by a list of notes on his appearance: Kaldorei, amber eyes, armed and dangerous, bow and arrow, curved elvish sword, accompanied by a golden dragon hatchling, last seen in the harbor flying towards mountains.

'Wanted for murder' was printed directly under the man's sketch.

Cherysa stepped closer to look at the document shaking her head even as she looked over the document, the description in her mind could fit any number of Kaldorei she'd met in the city but the dragon hatchling she thought would be memorable. Her gaze turned up to Graham, "No sir, I think I would remember someone like that. I have not seen him."  

Graham watched Cherysa calmly as she answered and merely nodded.

You could step outside and throw a rock and hit a hooded figure matching the drawing. It took Selise reading the description for something to click. She sighed.

"Yes, he was here as a patient, but that was about...three years ago now. I haven't seen him since," she replied. "And before you ask," she interjected as she saw Graham move to reply, "No, I can't give you details about the visit."

It was the Private that spoke up this time. "Maybe you could come down to command and speak with the Unit leader." He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "They might remind you of your contract."

Selise shook her head. "My answer to them would be the same." She gave Cherysa a brief look. "We will not be releasing patient records unless ordered to do so by a Magistrate."

Graham looked between the two women. "When the situation calls for such, we will be back. In the meantime, should you see him or learn anything else, you will report it to the authorities." He inclined his head ever so slightly and saw himself and the Private out of the office.

Cherysa frowned as she moved to relock the door. Her gaze met Selise's as she turned, "Do you think they will come back for the file?"

"If they get the proper documentation, then yes." She shook her head and moved back to her desk. Where was her tea? Selise glanced towards the hallway briefly. "Don't worry about it. If they come back, just tell them they have to talk to me because you can't get into the files."

"Understood. They seemed pretty serious, I hope it doesn't come to that though." She sighed and moved to begin getting the office ready for the day. "Anything you need special for today?"

"I'm glad they're taking it seriously; someone was murdered. I find it a bit hard to believe from him, but...something happened. Rell isn't stupid, he'll help get to the bottom of it. I just hope his superiors listen to him." It took her a moment to realize there was a question in there. "Hm? No, nothing special. Another routine day, hopefully." She smiled.

Written with @cherysaamberstill

Part 1- Limitations

Part 2- Challenges

Part 3- Faellyn’s Gift

Part 4- Understanding Pride

Two weeks passed and in that time, Synric managed to carve his teleportation rune, gave it a test run, and then was over the wall using the rest of his time getting himself lost. Walls were strangely taller, harder to see over and too climb. Passageways seemed to zig-zag and run up and down, broken in many sections requiring magic to jump or better equipment he simply did not have and could not get with the amount of coins he had. 

Beyond those problems, he still had the ogres to attend too. Not only were they more numerous, many of them called some of these buildings homes, there were ones specialized in magic and others in armor. Synric ran into several patrols that chased him without question, and no matter what techniques he had picked up beforehand, he could never quite lose them. No matter how far away he got, or managed to slip back around, they always seemed to find him. He assumed magic had to be at play. When he finally did lose them, he was normally in a different section of the city that he had not seen before. Thus, he was lost once more. There were a few days he had to sleep in the old elf city. Luckily he never grew truly lost, the trees could always be seen when he climbed up, or as he learned the best way to navigate the city was when the sun was rising or setting. 

Kal’sin eventually intervened. A magi ogre found them, and managed to rily up all the ogres around the area. Synric tried his normal means, not knowing what else to do as he navigated straight to his teleportation rune, but they seemed to know his path getting before him before he cross into the next section. Half a day of running and still there was no escape; it was at that point the little dragon threw up his own magic. The ogres never stepped into their path again that day. 

It was at that point that Synric understood why the elder hunters of the village warned about going near the ruins. He understood the tone of uncertainty in Faellyn’s silent question of what he was doing out here. Then why was he so stupid beforehand to try and make this trek to the tower when he was a whole lot younger?

Two more weeks passed, and the routine was set with aggravation and stubborn pride. He tried new tricks and with a little focus, managed to draw some ogres away from their paths so he could slip by unnoticed. 

Half-way through the fourth week, as he began to make his way back to the ruins, he found a set of ogre tracks no further than a rocks throw from his camp; they had gotten awfully close. If it hadn’t been for his protection runes camouflaging the place, his camp would have probably been destroyed. Yet, with that thought, he felt unsettled by how far they had traveled; he wasn’t that far from the village, about a half-day's walk.  

He tried again that night, and had made little advance. At least, he wasn’t getting spotted anymore. Maybe once or twice a week. Still it took a while to move through the city. 

Come the next morning, he watched a pair of ogres walk practically on top of his camp. They were grumbling and muttering in their language, and paying little attention to what was actually around them. And thanks to his runes, they couldn’t see him unless they were really looking. 

Mentions: @divergent-lines @thefracturedmosaic​

Synric found himself running through a dappled sunlight forest. Long grass grew as high as knees, the wind rustled leaves and touched the tips of the grass below. The weight of his bow felt light and easy in his hand. He smiled as he walked through the forest. Not quite sure where he was going or why, he was content to walk through and take in the warmth and cool of the sun, and feel the wind against his face.

           He felt a give under his feet. Swiftly, he took the weight off his foot and spotted a nice long piece of wood. Arrows. A lightness at his hip was a sudden remainder. That’s why I’m out here. Talren will be upset that I used up all his arrows again and didn’t collect them.

           He reached down and picked up the piece of wood and stuck it into his quiver.

           Pieces of broken branches seemed to lay everywhere now that he was looking. Long nice pieces of wood he put in his quiver. Long, skinny, pieces of wood he set back down. Long crooked pieces that were thick and had only a faint bend at the tips, he put in his quiver. Crooked pieces that couldn’t be cut into straight slender pieces he set back down.

           Thus, he collected a totally of twenty pieces of wood and had set down forty.

           The forest hadn’t changed in all that time. The sun was still high and warm. The winds brushed by lazily.

           Still, plenty of time. He sat down against one of the trees, drew out his knife, and began shaving the unnecessary ends of the stick that would weigh the arrow down. A small pile of wood strips were sitting between his legs as four arrow shafts sat to the side.

           His fingers were beginning to ache, but it was a welcomed ache. Talren will never notice the difference. He thought rather foolishly. Talren always knew when replaced the ones he lost. Always.

           Synric felt himself tighten at the thought, looking down at his wood strips, the pile of clean arrow shafts. I’ve done this before.

           Clouds began to roll through, taking the sunlight in speckled waves before vanishing into a grey, dark mist. The forest had turned a darkened, unnaturally thing.

           “Uncuff him.” A man’s voice Synric didn’t recognize said.

           “You tried the other day, give the kid a break. He hasn’t even been alert for thirty minutes.” Jacorek voice. He recognized that deep, low tone.

           The cold, clammily feeling under his cheek and hands urged him upwards; he felt weak doing so. His arms shook, once toned and larger, looked scrawny like those arrows he had been crafting.

           “That wasn’t our deal,” said a woman, she sounded annoyed, irritated, like a mother on a verge of screaming at her children. “Why must I have to remind you every day?”

           A man’s head swiveled in the darkness; he was sitting in a chair next to the bars he was laying by. “Why must I remind you of our deal?” Jacorek retorted. “He’s under my care, you only get to do your test until I’m done with him. Then we can decide on a deal if you can have him. Now,” his voice boomed on that word. “I refuse. Leave the kid alone for today, and for shits and giggles, tomorrow. Come back after that.” His hand waved to the darkness.

           Synric swayed on his hands, not having the energy to get himself all the way to a sitting position, and collapsed; the stone floor met him like an old friend, caressing him with cold fingers.

           “I’ve already drawn—” the voices began to fade as another deeper darkness consumed him.

           The forest was now bright and sunny, and Synric found himself staring at large gap between the trees; his half finished arrow shafts were in his quiver, now needing to find some type of bird or owl to pluck feathers from. His search along the forest floor seemed to give him no help, so a nest would be helpful, or a bird itself. He had found some stones that he collected in case he ran into an unwary bird.

           But the birds were now far from his mind. In that open space before him stood a large black stag, with white antlers, and green eyes; he had seen Synric well before he had seen it. The creatures’ nostrils flared; his attention locked.

           He was awed struck even if he wanted to move. He had never seen a black stag before. He had heard in stories of the ones in Ashenvale, but didn’t they have different colored eyes? And its antlers where stark white.

           The stag snorted, a quiver of body movement, and it leapt away.

mentions: @divergent-lines​ @thefracturedmosaic​

Synric rolled his head around, chasing away the sunlight that irritated him. The light followed. He gave a loud sigh as he came to the realization there was no point in fighting it. Synric pried open his eyes, and he was a bit befuddled by what he saw. Sunlight bathed everything in the room. Sunlight that came in from the single glass window that sat surrounded by wooden walls. Bundles of herbs hung from the ceiling. Small wooden tables, bookcases with filled books, and a dresser were lined with papers, small nick-nacks, bowls, and more books. 

Odd. 

Synric pushed away covers and made his way to the window. Outside, the soft yellow sand met the wide blue ocean. 

Smiling, he spun around and raced out the door, into a typical living room, and straight out the front door. The wind greeted him with its salty scent. The roar of the waves stretching out on the sands welcomed his ears.

He smiled, laughed, and felt tears run down his cheeks. 

When did I get home? He thought as he made his way towards the water. How long had it been since he saw the ocean and could actually swim in it? 

“Synric,” a gentle voice called out that froze him in spot; the roar of the waves beckoned, but the voice was all too familiar, all too heartbreaking. 

He turned slowly around, “Min’da,” came the immediate word, all other words forgotten as he took in the elf by the door. A soft smile, silver eyes, and long black hair. 

She went to speak, but he was already two steps and a hug, eyes tearing once again as he held her. 

“I’m so sorry,” He said, his voice breaking. “I should have just listened.” 

Jacorek took a deep breath. The sunlight filled room was an oddity, and it bothered him only because if it bothered him after only being in that dark, damp cave for two weeks watching the kid, then it surely must aggravate Synric. Even though he still hasn’t woken up. His thoughts turned him away from the sunlight, the wooden frames, the clutter room, and to the sleeping form of the half-elf in the bed. 

In the sunlight, it was even harder to look at the kid. 

The elvish heritage already gave him a slender look, but since the kid hadn’t managed to eat or drink on his own, his facial features were skeletal to look at. The covers looked like they laid on a bag of sticks. 

Jacorek faltered at the sight, taking in his plump hands and fingers, feeling the sword at his hip coaxing his emotions away. 

He couldn’t fight the swords anymore, yet, a part of him wouldn’t let him forget these feelings, those memories. 

Jacorek squeezed his eyes tight, looking back at the prone form of Synric. The kid was crying now. Little tears finding there way through. 

Jacorek rose from his seat and wiped away the tears before he moved around the bed and out the door. 

“Your medicine isn’t working,” his voice matched the edge of frustration he was holding on to. 

A middle-aged woman looked up from her placement of medicine herbs, spices, and several different containers. 

“Then, you may have to do what I said.”

Jacorek lips touched into a snarl. “Its not possible.”

“Then the man will stay in his coma.”

Jacorek took only four long steps before he struck the countertop of the witch-woman’s table. She froze in her movement, slowly putting down the string of plants she had been messing with as he said, “I’m paying you to heal him. There must be another way.”

The woman looked sharply at him. “His mind and body are separated, holding onto each other because the body has yet to fail, or a part of his mind doesn’t wish to die. Either way, he’s two steps into death door. His body is fine.” She added calmly. “Normally a family member or a love one would draw them back.” 

Jacorek felt his fingers wrap around the table’s edge, and he imagined the quick twitch of his biceps flipping that very table. He also imagined the witch-woman refusing to take care of the boy anymore, and as he wasn’t able to eat or drink on his own, drudic magic was the best alternative. 

He let the table go only by that will and thought alone. 

“I’ll be stepping out.” He said between tight teeth. Jacorek slammed the door behind, a hint of his anger that wanted to pour out. Mey’s the only one. His thoughts said, taking in the sand beneath his boots, hearing the ocean waves ahead of him. If I give him up…

He is useless to you now. Mey is never going to help you. 

The other company needs him. He retorted that thought quickly. The other line of thought seemed to dim away, knowing full well there was no arguing with that sense.

But…

Mentions: @divergent-lines @savianblackwood @faelynnmistwhisper

Synric heard the door slam and his immediate pulling of wooden boards ceased. His bright green eyes flickered to the stairwell. Frozen, like a deer catching the scent of some feral prey. The sound of footsteps echoed, followed by something heavy clattering to the ground, then, a low groan of wood.

He’s too early. I have at least another day before he comes back. Synric looked to his makeshift hole in the wall. The wooden boards were too far gone now that he couldn’t just put them back together. The bookshelf he had hid the hole last time was obviously pushed far from its original location. He would notice.

Wouldn’t he?

Synric cursed his luck in more than one way. If there is a goddess, If this is some kind of punishment, I wish you could tell me what it is I did wrong! He scooted out from behind the bookcase, looked it over closely, before staring at the stairwell. The door would swing open further down giving him enough warning.

The minutes passed, drawing into longer minutes. No sound came.

Jacorek should have had enough time to come up those steps by now. For a moment, Synric wondered if the man had left, and he just hadn’t heard. At that very thought, a sharp crack echoed from below, the sound of wood groaning, followed by a shout of rage and frustration.

Synric paled, looking to the bookcase and then back to the stairwell. Something had happened.

Mom. It wasn’t the first time he had thought of her. Now that weeks had passed by, the image of the elf claiming to be his mother, his only hope of escape, he couldn’t help but think of her. Her and his father. But they're dead and no one is going to save you. And if Talren was coming he’d be here already, and Faellyn…

He turned to the bookcase, he had to risk it.

There came the sound of things banging down below, and Synric rushed to slide the bookcase back into place. Once, such a thing would have been smooth and easy. Now, the bookcase felt like it weighed like heavy metal.

The sound below stopped. He stopped. The bookcase was almost in alignment.

He didn’t wait long for the next outburst, which paled Synric more so. Whatever happened, he thought as he shoved the bookcase into place, it wasn’t going to be good for him.

Synric stepped lightly over to the window. He had memorized which floor boards squeaked, and so he avoided them diligently. No reason to bring the wrath of the man from below upstairs. Synric sat down, opened one of the books he had been passing the time with, and tried to look as normal as possible.

Jacorek never came though, which was another oddity, and eventually, the sounds from below had gone silent for well over several hours.

The sun had shifted in the sky to touch the edges of the red cliffs, and the cool shadows were beginning to steal the last remaining warmth he would get for the day.

Synric had drifted, staring out to the scattered treelines and bushes. Rabbits had passed by, deer too, and nothing else. This place was deserted. He wished he knew where the town was, if it was beyond the hills that he couldn’t see over, or in the direction he couldn’t see. His thoughts eventually jumped about what to do if the hole in the wall would trigger the runes when he heard the door swing open.

Synric jumped, despite having expected it for some time. His eyes were set to the open space where the stairwell lay hidden from sight, step after groaning step, the black hair of the man bobbed into view before the rest of him.

And he did not look like his normal self. Gone was the armor, leaving only the sword at his hip. And from the side, he looked an awful lot like Savian to such a point that a small part of his brain leapt at the possibility.

But Jacorek’s blue eyes flickered to him and then he stood, quiet, silent, and most importantly filled with tension. Synric shrunk just a little bit. The weight of his cuffs became another reminder of how hopeless his situation would be if the man decided to take his anger out on him.

Synric slowly shifted his body towards Jacorek, keeping his head low, his body motions slow. Jacorek’s eyes narrowed, and his hands fell from his chest and down to his side. His stride was one with purpose and rage, and Syrnic was upon his feet, shirt being pulled towards the death knight.

“Seems your mother decided that you aren’t worth the time,” Jacorek said. The words registered just as fast as the sharp blast of pain that struck Synric in the gut and he spat as his body wished to curl into a body instinctually, and it did. He fell to the floor in a clump and for a moment was grateful to feel the cool wood. But his mind was twisting, she abandoned me?

Jacorek footfalls rounded around him. “What am I going to do then?” He said, making one round and stopping. Synric refused to look up, and for a moment, he wished dearly for his parents, Talren, Faellyn... She had promised, he had heard the voice’s whisper. Synric bit down on his lip, cutting the tears short.

Jacorek seemed to have other plans though. A sharp weight fell on Synric’s leg, and he gasped as the pressure registered closer to his knee. Please. Synric whispered in his mind, but knew nothing would come from it. Knew that the men would only find pleasure in his whimpering and begging if he spoke.

“She broke her deal.” He said his voice deep and rumbling. Then he felt the pressure sharpening, his knee protesting. Panic filled him.

“Then I can do it for you,” He said, his voice unable to hide that fear. “I can do it for you. I swear.”

Jacorek paused, his eyes flickering to sudden intrigue. The pressure lifted from Synric’s knee. Jacorek began laughing, a soft, easy laugh that he had heard one too many times. This laugh was not a good one.

Synric scrambled to get his legs back underneath him, to get all body parts closer. He remembered his shoulder, it still hurt.

Then Jacorek was kneeling before him, his smile wide. “You’d run away.”

“No.” Synric said despite the little voice that said, yes of course.

“You would,” the man said, his voice losing all warmth, and Synric was hoisted back up to his feet.

“I wouldn’t! I swear. You could accompany me, I won’t make a scene. I swear.”

Jacorek hardly seemed amused now. “Tell me boy, do you really want to help?”

“Yes.” Synric voice was filled with desperation as his mind flashed to the elf that claimed to be his mother. She lied. The voices whispered.

Jacorek lips twisted in a grand smile. “She will come for you. She thinks she has the upper hand. Somehow, some way. But she’s forgotten you know.” He said touching Synric on the cheek with a knuckle. “But you haven’t, have you?”

Synric shook his head.

“Good.” The pull from Synric’s shirt relaxed and he was standing by himself. Jacorek stepped away, and began to walk around him.

He wants to beat me, take his rage out. Synric closed his eyes, waiting for that first sharp jab.

Jacorek scoffed, and the sound of his footfalls began to recede. “I’ll be back.” He said his voice filled with indifference. “And you will fulfil your promise you just swore,” he finished with a hiss.

Mentions: @synric-silversong​ @divergent-lines​

alluded to: @kaelenar​           

Sitting in the dark within the caves, Jacorek watched as Synric sat motionless against the cavern wall; the frost trap that impeded further travel frosted the area ever so slightly giving a slight mist to the cool dampness the caverns usually permitted. Synric hadn’t looked up when he approached, hadn’t given him a single long look when he had sat down, and even now Synric seemed content to wither in his own thoughts and forget all else.

           Jacorek had watched Synric for a long time, long enough that his back was beginning to ache from sitting on the stone; and over the course of a few weeks of sitting on stone, Jacorek assumed it had been several hours since he had sat down.

Watching Synric over the course of those several hours, Jacorek had noticed several things about the kid that he couldn’t quite explain why he had taken a negative turn, but that negative turn was contributing to his own problem he had been wondering about as well.

           One of those things he had noticed was the mental statues. Synric had deteriorated beyond what Jacorek could recover; if he wanted the kid unhurt, and undamaged, by the time he got what he wanted, the kid needed to go home, or something resembling home, or at worse someone he cared for, or needed. Things Jacorek couldn’t provide thanks to Mey.

If only she hadn’t said those words, he grunted to himself.

           Two, the kid clearly could have cared less for him. The cuffs needed to stay on, but maybe he could give the kid some room to run around when they traveled to the next spot that he would hold him captive. Which would work perfectly for helping Synric gather some sense of stability in his own mind again.

            But all of this naturally led to Jacorek’s immediate problem. Where was he going to put Synric now?

Sticking Synric in another cavern wouldn’t do. Someone had found his hideout; thus, they could bring a bigger force, or come back by themselves again; either way it was a confrontation that Jacorek didn’t care to deal with. 

So, his problem laid bare for some time in the hours of sitting in the dark. He thought about turning the kid in to a local jail for a time. Maybe throw him in with some bandits to keep an eye on him. Or set up a new barrier out in the open were he could act normal and free.

The first two options kept Synric away from him, and in the trust of others, too which, he trusted neither guard or bandit against spies and assassins. The last was out of his power, unless, he hired another mage or rune crafter to do such a large barrier. But there would be questions. Questions, he could not answer truthfully and no excuse that sounded good enough that rumors wouldn’t be spread about the location of a large barrier drawing curious eyes and hands.

In between those thoughts, Jacorek kept coming to a single image in his head. Red canyons, green touched dirt, distant trees, and most importantly warmth from the sun, the shimmers of sunlight on water. 

           He took in a deep breath, causing the young man to glance his way. There was a glimmer of defiance in those green, amber glowing, eyes but it was weak and filled more with a tiredness.

An ache sprang in Jacorek heart. He ignored it. It’s time to move on.

Jacorek walked up to the frost wall, set a hand on it, and felt the magic seep in all around him.

           The wall collapsed in mere seconds. There was a shocked almost stunned silence that followed unexpectedly and was echoed by the course of running water ahead.

           Jacorek gave a fleeting glance over his shoulder to see Synric staring wide eyed.

He stepped forward and kept moving.

           It wasn’t long until he heard footsteps echoing behind him, the spine-tingling sensation that whispered someone was close enough to stab him if they wanted too. “Where are we going?” Synric’s voice was hollow and dry and hopeless.

           “Out of these caves,” he said softly. “It’s the only sensible thing to do.”

           There came the next silence, but this time filled with urgency and thought, and perhaps a little hope.

           Synric spoke, “Where too?” His voice was lighter, despite the clear attempt to keep it dry and toneless.