21 May
Ashlyn stood in the center of the common room, holding her staff in front. She probably didn't have much time, but she trusted her mother would be gone for at least an hour. She needed answers and this was perhaps the only opportunity she would get to do it in private before her return to Tyron.
With a breath, she closed her eyes and called her staff awake. The blue pendent glowed and cast a beam of light from its tip before spreading itself into a plain white sheet. Her eyes matched the color of the frame once she opened them, and after a gentle stream of words, the frame began to show a series of moving images.
In her mind's eye, she stepped through a field of shadows that drifted amongst a relentless fog. She could hear the agonizing screams of a child echoing through the void, yet she could see little. The swirling fog clouded her vision, but her feet kept moving across a plain of what felt like sand.
She wandered until the sand became stone beneath her and the clouds cleared. Before her now was a dark room encircled by dim yellow lamps, a prison cell where a lone boy sat chained to the floor. He had little to cover him, save for a pair of worn trousers and a mane of long dark hair that drooped over his eyes. His wrists were scabbed as if he had recently been cut open, his skin was pale and sweaty.
Ashlyn observed the boy as though she were there in the room with him. She had the bleeding urge to walk up, unfasten his chains, and let him run free... but it was only a vision, she reminded herself. A glimpse of the past.
Even so, she couldn't bring herself to turn away from the prisoner. For a long while she watched him, somehow captivated by his lack of strength. She stared as he crouched onto his bruised knees, touching his forehead to the floor. It brought soft tears to Ashlyn's eyes, how broken and without hope the boy was.
She heard the door to his cell unlatch and saw a beastly dark elf step through. For the first time, Ashlyn saw the King of Ëolnir and noted his disturbing black eyes.
The boy cowered in the King's presence; the knots along his spine jutted outward as he sank lower.
The dark elf King tossed a ration to the floor and knelt down, gripping the boy by his hair. "Be thankful for today," he said with a deep raspy voice. "You are alive."
The boy grit his teeth. "You call this living?"
The King's smile alone made Ashlyn's stomach churn. Anger burned inside her as the King rose and stood over the boy.
"Do not despair, Damien. You are my pride, my greatest accomplishment." Then he left and allowed the boy to eat his ration alone.
Horrified, Ashlyn released herself from the spell and let the frame of her Sight dissipate. Her hands grasped for the sofa as she collapsed into it, breathing heavily.
"That was awful," she said to the empty room, soothing her temples. "Why did I do that?"
Because you want him? Her inner voice offered.
Want him? If anything, she pitied him, yearned to relieve his torment. Of course, it didn't help that Damien had no desire to let her into his life. He was a closed book. How was she ever to bond with that?
Ashlyn heard the sound of her mother returning from the market and she scrambled to appear normal, less flustered. She rested back on the couch, used a book for a prop. Her mother smiled while coming in with a few sacks full of provisions.
"Right where I left you," Calda said, placing her purchases down. "Am I to believe you made no plans for today?"
"Nope." Ashlyn peeked up from her book and saw her mother resting a hand on her waist.
"Not even with that orphan you seem so fond of?"
Ashlyn sighed while sitting upright. "I don't think he wants me to bother him anymore. He hasn't exactly been open to me."
"Perhaps this is a lesson you might as well learn now: we cannot win the heart and mind of every person we encounter. Not even you, Ashlyn."
"I've honestly never met anyone before who doesn't want my help," she said.
"I understand it must be new for you," Calda said, then started putting her things away. "You'll learn to live with it."
12 May
The next afternoon, Ashlyn ventured to the House of Kallus and summoned Damien personally. It took a long while for the boy to make an appearance, but when he came to the common room, he took off his work gloves and approached Ashlyn.
"You can't leave me alone, can you?" He looked at her cynically. "What do you want?"
"I know this is going to sound a bit irrational—"
"What is it?" he pushed.
"I'm getting to that." She frowned. "If you'll just listen."
Damien folded his arms and gestured for her to continue.
"I was wondering if you would lend me a sample of your blood?" She clenched her eyes, waiting for his response.
"And why do you want it?"
"For research," she said. "I have a few theories but, I can't narrow them down without a sample."
Damien raised a brow. "You're still trying to figure me out? I thought we were done with this."
"No, I've simply continued on my own."
“Ash…” he sighed, “is there any way I could get you to stop?”
“I respect that you want to stop,” she said. “But I need answers for myself. I need to know what you are.”
He rolled his eyes, shook his head while forming a grin. “You want to know what I am, do you?” He glanced over his shoulder and raised his volume. “Ash, I’d appreciate it if you stopped digging into my past.”
"And I'd appreciate it if you called me by my name," she said rudely.
Damien moved toward the door and gave her an odd wink. "Thanks for having the decency to ask, but please, just let it go."
Ashlyn sighed while following him to the door. It was clear he didn't wish her to stay any longer. "If that's how you feel, then who am I to force you?" Before she could leave, however, she needed to say one more thing. "I hope one day you do want answers, and that you'll call on me to help."
"I'll be sure to let you know when that day comes. Ash."
He shut the door on her, and Ashlyn began walking home without the prize she had come for. She supposed it made sense why Damien was so stubborn. After seeing a glimpse of his captivity in Ëolnir it seemed reasonable he was slow to trust. But despite all her efforts to ease his suspicions, he still did not trust her, and that was infuriating.
She would have chosen to stay angry with him if he hadn't possessed the appeal of a wounded animal. Perhaps it was why she kept making an approach.
Ashlyn gripped the sides of her head, cursing at herself. How was she supposed to understand him now? She couldn't force him to trust.
Slowly, her inner voice began to reason.
What are you doing? It scolded at her. You've done nothing but scare him off!
"I know!" Ashlyn cursed and beat herself. She doubted the boy would ever give her a second chance after being so bold. But he wasn't truly scared of her, was he?
"Ash?"
She jumped at the sound of Damien's voice and turned around to see him pursuing her through the garden.
"Ah! A better warning next time?"
Damien stopped a few inches from her and slipped a glass vial full of warm red liquid into her hand. "You should go before anyone sees you with that."
Ashlyn puzzled at it. If there was a fresh cut on his hand, it was covered up by gloves.
"I don't understand. You told me to let it go."
Damien looked down at his feet. "Everyone's always listening in there. If you’re going to learn what I am, just do it discreetly. And if you never come back…I don’t blame you.”
She nodded then tucked the vial away. "I'll keep it safe," she promised.
That evening, Ashlyn stood in her mother's healing room with a book in her left hand and the vial of Damien's blood in her right. After reading a few passages, she placed the book down on a desk and opened the vial, pouring several drops into a metal container over a controlled flame.
"One teaspoon of terebinth extract...three blossoms of moonflower and...a pinch of ground black root. There."
She wiped her hands on a towel and picked up a wooden spoon to stir the mixture. Her mother must have smelled the ingredients cooking because within a few seconds, Calda peeked her head into the room.
"What's going on?" she asked, moving in to get a better look. When she saw the blood mixture, the color drained from her face.
"Ashlyn, this is not appropriate."
"I just need to see." Ashlyn kept stirring until all the ingredients dissolved together. "Please don't make me waste it."
Calda crossed her arms. "And what do you hope to see?"
"I think he might have elven blood. I found this recipe in your book, it should tell me if I'm right."
"You're still pursuing this Damien mystery? Child, just let the boy be."
"But I can't!"
The mixture started to emit puffs of murky black steam that smelled like charred vegetables. Ashlyn coughed through it while lowering the flame.
"See?" Calda gestured. "Your mixture is for naught."
According to the book, elven blood was supposed to emit gray steam not black. In a burst of anger, Ashlyn slammed the book closed and threw her hands into the air.
"Then it's useless! I've tried everything, Mother. Without getting into his mind, that is."
"I know." Calda drew her daughter in for a hug. "Another lesson you might as well learn now: even a Sorceress cannot find all the answers."
