Blood

Keeral sat in Raithea’s private library and as he ordered him to, started to search for more information about elvin tribes. His Master supposed that this… Arialin, may belong to some lost society, that strange his emanation was. Keeral was leafing through one of the books – a certain volume written after human conquest – but his mind was occupied with the guest.

Keeral was not exactly keen in magic, but as any elf, he could feel the darkness. That’s why he never truly believed in wrong gossip about Raithea – about spells and means that never belonged to elvin kind. He simply never felt darkness in his Master.

Of course, Raithea was a strict teacher and sharp as a dagger, but he wasn’t evil. This, he could easily put among impossibilities.

But Arialin was enveloped by dark magic, and even if Keeral couldn’t place if it was external or coming from his heart, he was worried that the newcomer may outbalance the already fragile situation of elves in this castle.

Raithea’s. And his own.

I am not afraid, he murmured to himself, while seeking information, this is common sense.

This darkness, though was something that was twisting him inside. What if humans find him out, and here of all places? The king has seen it as heresy to human order, to be bound with night. His magicians were seeking actively elves who were trying to dip their fingers in forbidden practices, to make their own lifes a bit better. He was aware that helping the darkness was performing it, in human law.

He knew that the king is afraid of any magical act against him, not unlike his ancestors, who also were very eager to remove dark magic from the human ruled cities and villages.

This elf could be their end… or the opposite. He couldn’t really place his own feelings, wanting only to trust Raithea and his knowledge.

He really tried to do his job better, but no book or manuscript ever spoke about amassing shadows in a person’s body. Yes, there were shadows, wraiths, but they were independent beings and never truly wanted to latch to humans or elves. That was happening extremely rarely and not in this age.

So… what other options did he have? Raithea should be here already. His master closed himself in his bedchambers, with Arialin, and he didn’t even know if this shadow didn’t attack him, and he needs help now. He knew though, that Raithea would be very displeased if he started to knock on his door, to make sure.

Few more books later and an hour more, Keeral dozed off, with his head on a volumine, cheek pressed tightly to a figure showing a genealogical tree of Samera family.

A voice woke him up.

“You need sleep,” Raithea said, not even looking at him, placing himself near a large desk next to his assistant’s. His hands at once started to rummage through books on it. “You are free until tomorrow.”

Keeral realized that his hair is ruffled and his face is red from pressing to a page. He felt deeply ashamed.

“I don’t want to go, Master,” he said, with a doubt. “This… elf… he is dangerous. I feel it under my skin.”

Raithea stopped going through the books and looked at him, his expression undeciphered. He shook his head then and smiled. It was a genuine, amused smile, that Keeral didn’t see often.

“Yes, he is,” he agreed. “But not to us. Not to me. And not to you, Keeral.”

“I didn’t mean…”

“You surely are worried that he may endanger elves in this place. But all he can endanger is a feeling of safety of those who feel already too safe.” Raithea patted one of the books. “I should regret ordering you to read through all of  it. He told me who he is. All we need to do is to focus on how to use it.”

Keeral rubbed his red cheek, which slowly started to gain more natural, pale colors.

“Master… please forgive me… but how do you… know if he won’t harm any of us?”

He knew he spoke foolish thing in the moment when these words left his mouth. But Raithea, ignoring it and spreading his hand, summoned a small void bulb, in which a not less small drop of blood floated, a tiny crimson tear.

“I taught you a lot of things,” Raithea said with a focused expression. “Taught you about languages, history, even gods. Taught you about talents, magic and soul. Tell me now, Keeral, what makes it all go run? What is a perpetuum mobile that makes life… live?”

Keeral exhaled heavily.

“Blood?”

Raithea pointed at the void sphere, nodding slowly, like he already was weighting possibilities.

“We are built from blood and even gods must listen to it. Legends are born from blood, which flows through invisible arteries, binding each living form. Magic is created in those small cells, which can command it and shape it, like a sculptor.”

Keeral was confused, but nodded. He knew about blood since his first lessons with Raithea, when he handed him spoken rules of magic.

“We have much work to do” Raithea eventually said to his lost assistant. “You really can go. Tired, you will be of no use. Tomorrow, we will start putting those microscopical elements together.”

Keeral slowly started to gather his own notes, a bit disappointed that he couldn’t be more useful in searching about the darkness that by force entered their lives.

When he was leaving the chamber, he saw Raithea, bent over a very old manuscript, his eyes dark and his face focused, lost in letters and ideas.

He bowed to him, even if his Master could not see it and left. He knew he wouldn’t fall asleep. But he had to try.

Tomorrow he has to be at use, or he will hate himself for not being part of it.