Some things can't be fixed with magic. (A short story)

[Spellblades 749]

 

 

Heyah-nyn?

 

 

Why? It was a question Aelyn had asked himself many times. Why does he keep going? Why does he deserve to keep going? So many questions but not enough answers, that had been his life since childhood, raised in Imperial lands as someone of Mali’ker descent was a challenge, trying to adjust to a world that seemed so foreign but yet all he knew. 

In his confusion, he often found solace in storybooks, one depicting tales of a Wizard going on grand quests was his favorite. That story ignited something in the young Greye’s heart for better or worse.

 

“He is going to outlive us someday.”

 

Those words often echoed in Aelyn’s head as he grew up, eventually coming to terms with the inevitable truth. The people he surrounded himself with now would not be there to see him reach his dreams. No magic spell would change that. A fact he tried to ignore and continue to live like nothing was wrong, like he wasn’t breaking under the weight of it.

The Maehr had reached great heights already as a Mage, but it didn’t seem to be enough for him; his family and friends often told him to be proud of the progress he’s made and that he’s powerful enough, but something kept driving him forward, there was always something more to learn, to discover, but one thing he’d never thought to search for is the cure to his disarranged existence.

His mother had often told him the story of how she found him, hanging from a basket on a decaying tree, the branch he was swinging from minutes from collapsing. Sometimes he wished that she had arrived late so that the world didn’t have to see him.

 

“You belong in this world, Spike. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.”

 

Aelyn remembered these words late at night. The last few years had been so draining and busy that the Maehr often forgot to sleep most nights, but that statement resonated in his mind, driving him forward.

So he made a deal with his own psyche, a mad idea to most but not to him. The ‘Ker sat upon the walls of Lotharia, feeling the cold wind of the night on his skin, running through his hair. The Wind had always been his element, and now the one he had the most control over. And now he had control over something different. He let go, not of his life but the voice that told him that he didn’t deserve one.