The Beast Within

CHAPTER EIGHT

*One year ago…*

Ceraun expected a lot of things from Adrik but it was not this, somehow Adrik’s empty stare managed to hurt harder than beatings and harsh words.

He had blacked out on the ocean floor, his mother easily finding him with her rare blue Fire magic, it was immensely weak though that it could barely be used as a torch but torches could not be lighted the night before so she had to rely on her weak fire to find him, the last thing he had heard before he lost consciousness was her, although in his delirious state he half thought it was Dew.

It was not though, it could not ever be anymore and it was all his fault, it was why although the villagers kept quietly thanking him and applauding him, his heart was a glacier.

The other children around his age refused to speak to him, Viola flying at him in rage when she saw him that she had to be pulled away by an aunt.

Her mom, a healer, had been working tirelessly to save those who could be saved.

He had not tried to defend himself against her attacks, welcoming them even.

What had he fancied himself as? Some hero? Some saviour?

No, he had just acted recklessly and put the lives of people he cared about in danger.

*‘Again’*

An unfamiliar voice whispered in his head but he was quick to dispel the notion, heart overwhelmed in guilt and regret, grief a miserable side dish.

The fang of the Siren that had been given to him as a battle trophy of sorts had hurt each time he glanced at it, for now, it was covered up with a broken clay bowl, out of his gaze.

While he had been fighting against the siren, the entire world had tunnelled out, fading away and it was only when it was over and he stepped back had he seen the wreckage.

He did not feel that way when he and Adrik were about to go after Dew, all he felt then was complete terror and hopelessness, the kind that made you charge to your death with the full knowledge that you were going to end up dead.

The children of the village were charged to not come down to sea until the c*****e had been cleared up, their parents going down to help.

He spent the entire day in a haze and although his mother insisted that he stay in bed for his nasty scratches to heal up, he could not sit and stare at his wall with the ghost of Dew.

She occupied his mind endlessly, her voice yelling for him to come back, her pulling him away from the siren, her using her powers which she usually reserved for very important situations and the final ghost that flashed behind his eyelids was the one of her lifeless and broken body held in the claw of the Siren's hand, waves crashing around.

He crumpled to the ground at this point, there was loud screaming in his head, screams that he doesn't ever remember hearing in his life but felt so familiar.

His head and arm were wrapped up in strips of cloth, poultices strapped underneath.

He wandered aimlessly around the quiet village which seemed darker than usual like the sun itself wept for their tragedy, grey clouds hung off the sky painting a tragic image indeed.

It would forever be burned in Ceraun's young mind.

In his aimless wandering, he found himself at the graveyard, nobody was here yet although they had lost a good number of the villagers, there had to be rituals and preparations made for the dead before they could be buried.

But Dew did not have a body so her parents were burying her prized possessions, hunched over in grief and pain, robes stained with earth.

He watched forlornly as her mom blindly used her hands to dig, tears streaming down her face as she babbled incoherently.

Mister Edgen did not try to stop her, kneeling frozen on the ground and staring into the distance.

Ceraun couldn't break free from the scene, not when Dew's mother very carefully covered up the dug hole, a piece of sea glass gleaming as it fell out of the hole.

He hid behind a crude mud-brick wall till his legs grew sore from where he was crouching and he sat on the ground, till the clouds darkened further and it started to rain slightly like the sky mourned for Dew.

He would never again hear her argue with him about his heroes, the Bastias, and although he did not approve of her opinion, he wished he could still hear it.

Just as Dew's parents were readying to leave he remembered the Siren fang given to him, if anyone deserved that, it was her so he turned tail and ran back home.

Ignoring the thudding pain in his head and arm, the pain from a Siren caused wound was excruciating and without the poultice, he would have perhaps been unable to move.

So he was careful while running so as not to lose the moist masses pressed up against his wounds, nimble feet carrying him through the sharp turns and thin pathways of the village.

His parents were still out, no doubt down at the sea, perhaps who he was before the fight with the Siren would have gone down to the beach although children had been expressly warned to stay away.

But not anymore, sometimes the heroic thing to do was nothing, if he had done nothing, Dew would not be dead, they wouldn't have lost as many people as they did, his father would have come down to stun the Siren long enough for their weak spots to be found.

He pushed away the thoughts from his mind and hurried to his room to retrieve the fang, it was glowing an odd green that was brighter in the dark but he could not bring up the excitement for it.

He ran all the way back to the graveyard, blood churning, Dew's parents were long gone but someone else was there now… Adrik.

He had been searching for the other boy all day, he had to do something, apologize… ask Adrik to take a body part... it could not balance the loss of Dew, neither would it bring her back but he had to pay retribution somehow.

As Ceraun stepped forward, he expected a lot of things from Adrik but it was not this, somehow Adrik’s empty stare managed to hurt a lot more than beatings and harsh words.

"Adrik…" He finally said, eyes cast to the ground after an uncomfortably long time of standing beside the other, no words exchanged.

"Ceraun." Adrik replied, tone bland.

This made Ceraun glance sharply up at him, Adrik never called him by his first name.

The rain had stopped falling, the smell of wet earth permeating the place.

Ceraun could not say a word after this, his planned offer of retribution dying in his throat at the empty depths of Adrik's eyes, the taller boy returning to blatantly ignoring him.

He suddenly wanted to leave, this was not Adrik's special whale skin jacket that he never let anyone touch, this was not catching a big fish that Adrik set his sights on, but he did not want to leave without giving Dew the Siren's fang.

Soon enough, however, Adrik turned around and walked away, gait different from his usual jaunty way of walking, his arms hanging lazily beside him.

He fell down to the wet, upturned earth in agony, nothing would ever remain the same…

He was not wrong…

As the months passed, the villagers slowly got over the attack of the Sirens, their village was cut off from the rest of the nation and this was fine with them, although it meant that they could not reach out for help in a situation like this, it protected them from the whims of the non-Mages.

Torches were lit up at night again and parties were held, Nana Leona went back to telling enthralling stories under the huge fig tree and even Viola seemed to have started to recover, she was now quiet and unassuming, never joining them to listen to stories or to fish, instead helping out her mother and staying with the women.

At storytime, Ceraun was at the peak of his irritating personality, trying to coerce a reaction out of the gloomy boy.

All he managed to do was rile up the younger children, Adrik never gave a retort or a routine 'Shut up, bastard Feyrer.'

It made him grow cold inside but he did not give up, going as far as to stalk Adrik and the two boys who were always hanging around him when he bumped into a peculiar conversation.

*"Say, Adrik, why don't you ever mess with Feyrer anymore."*

One of the boys was asking, in a stringy tunic and matted black hair.

Adrik just shrugged, eyes distant as he threw rocks at the ocean, they were seated on the beach, preparing to catch fish.

*"It isn't the same.*

He had said, voice ancient with tragedy.

Ceraun had turned tail and ran, he never asked for the story of the Shadow Prince after that, never rushed first to do things, was always the first to walk away at the sound of danger, never entertained thoughts of being a hero.

He was not important, he was not special even someone as special as the Shadow Prince had not stood a chance how much less him.

If the others noticed this, no one said a word and it was not very long before their world was upended.

The raids happened…

The non-Mages came in broad daylight, in giant ships and metal clothes, setting houses on fire so that the sky went dark with smoke.

The villagers were confused, not to mention taken by surprise, most of them had never seen a non-Mage before, sheltered away from the rest of the Kingdom.

And now there was a whole army of them about to cart them away from their homes in chains, Mages who tried to resist were easily killed, their low tier magic no match for heavily armed and armoured soldiers.

Ceraun had not done a thing even when soldiers beat up his father for killing a soldier with his lightning, his father was spared because of this, if he had interfered, he probably would have gotten his family killed.

It was like the universe was hell-bent on showing him just how weak he was, the journey on the ships were hell, people - children were not exempted - were thrown overboard for the slightest offence.

They were made to sleep on the deck and given seawater to drink, it was then they learnt that it wasn't just their small coastal village that had fallen prey to a magical creature.

Some non-Mage Towns were attacked by minotaurs and ogres and they had turned against the Mages like their villages were not the worst hit.

Their little fishing village of Coldmaw had been a little lucky, just a couple of Sirens.

Some Mage villages had been wiped out in entire nights by ghouls and fiends, succubi had stolen the entire male population, leaving bloody trails behind, the entire territory was in danger of an attack.

Naturally, Mages were blamed for their appearances and were all rounded up to prevent them from calling up more magical beasts and to also be made to defeat them.

By the time they had gotten to the main parts of the Kingdom, Thrika was already prepared for them and they were thrown into another version of hell.

Just because Ceraun was impassive did not mean that he had lost his fire, it burned ever brightly within him, scorching his soul, it had just been covered with the shawl of guilt and regret.

Doused by hopelessness and tragedy, he needed something to snap him out of it, waking up morning after morning to fetch water and get whipped, knowing that very soon he would be shipped off to war… something was needed to break the cycle of despair.