Zep-par looked down at the village elder of Grimcrest, feeling sickened by how much better he felt in that moment. "I want an answer, Elder Uru," he whispered coldly. The elder shuddered on the table, bloodied and burned by Zep-par's torturous experiments. Zep-par grimaced as the pressure inside him finally eased—only for the nausea to set in, forcing him to hold back the urge to retch.
"P-please...no more," Uru rasped.
"Then tell me, why does the whole village hate me? What sin am I guilty of?" Zep-par raised his dagger, and Uru's eyes widened.
"Alright, alright I'll tell you," Uru relented. "You are the bastard son of a necromancer, Zardeem was his name."
Zep-par let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding in. "I'm hated for being a bastard?" he asked incredulously. "That's not rare, there must be dozens of bastard children in Grimcrest alone. That can't be all there is to it."
"It's not because you're a bastard," Uru admitted. "It's because you're his bastard."
"What does that mean?" Zep-par demanded.
"He arrived in Grimcrest, fancy tricks and charm," Uru spat. "Amira was smitten from her first glance."
"Amira...my mother?" Zep-par pressed.
Uru nodded weakly. "He used magic to sweep her away—distant cities, endlessly blooming flowers." He spat in contempt. "Parlor tricks dressed as miracles." He took a deep breath. "And it worked, she left with him to be his wife." He glared up at Zep-par. "Two years after they left together, Zardeem came back." He shuddered. "No Amira, just a baby. He left you with Amira's parents and just vanished."
"Amira's parents," Zep-par hesitated. "The Blackthornes?" he growled. Uru nodded in confirmation, the Blackthorne couple who had looked after Zep-par until he'd turned five. They'd known all along and had never told him. Zep-par gritted his teeth. They had known. Every glare. Every whisper. They had known why. "What of my mother? Where is she?"
"According to Zardeem, she died giving birth to you," Uru whispered. "And that is your sin, Zep-par Blackthorne." His eyes hardened. "You are the unnatural son of that unnatural man, wielding unnatural powers, made even worse by your first breath being Amira's last."
"So you, and all of Grimcrest, decided to punish a child for something he didn't even know about?" Zep-par demanded quietly. He didn't wait for Uru to answer, he didn't need his response. Zep-par drew his dagger across his throat, his breath quick and shallow as the light slowly faded from the bound elder's eyes. Zep-par's hands hung limply at his sides, the dagger clanging onto the floor as he stepped stiffly out of the hut.
Zep-par stood there for a moment, staring at the ground, his eyes wide with shock. He couldn't comprehend it, why he was a monster for something he had never done. After a moment, Zep-par looked up and saw the other villagers gathered around him, wondering why he'd just come out of Uru's hut. His eyes narrowed as he felt a dangerous calm settle over himself. He had spent his entire life begging to be seen as human. Zep-par was done begging.
"I know why you hate me now," Zep-par declared coldly. "You judge me because of my father." He raised his hands, palms up toward the sky. "You've called me a monster my whole life," he said, forcing a demented grin to split his face. "Is this monstrous enough for you?" he sneered. His face hardened as spheres of flame began to blossom from his palms, scattering across the village.
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Zep-par woke with a start, covered in a cold sweat and panting. His snow-white hair stuck to his forehead as he sat straight up in bed. Several deep breaths later, and he was mostly calm again, though shaken. That damned day still haunted him in his dreams, but it had still been months since he'd had that particular nightmare.
'Hard to believe it's already been two whole years since that day,' he thought bitterly.
With trembling fingers, he pulled the blanket off and made his way out of his dorm room. Here, the great wizard Edarin had taken him under his tutelage. Zep-par draped the half cape, which marked him as Edarin's disciple, over his shoulders with a sigh. The deep purple color clashed horribly with his light brown tunic, but he could scarcely afford better clothes. One day he hoped to be able to drape himself in elegance.
'But for now, I look like a shabby pet...with a fancy collar,' he mused with contempt. Zep-par returned to his dorm room and meticulously straightened the sheets and blanket on his bed before sitting cross-legged on the floor.
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply as he concentrated on drawing in the ambient mana. This was how mages built up their mana reserves. Like strengthening a muscle, a mage's mana pool could be expanded by gradually forcing small amounts of mana into already full reserve. Zep-par had been using this method even before his master had told him that it was the standard practice. He still didn't have a clue what he would do with the power he was building. Edarin had actually asked him that very question the previous night, and Zep-par was still unsure.
One thing he was sure of was that having enough power meant that he'd never be at someone else's mercy.
He sat there, continuing his mana cultivation for an hour before he heard the familiar ringing of a bell that signaled for him to join Master Edarin in the study. With a resigned sigh, Zep-par stood and left his dorm room. On his way, he stopped by the kitchen to begin brewing a pot of jasmine tea. It was Edarin's favorite, and Zep-par was quite fond of the tea as well.
A few minutes later, the sweet scent of the tea wafted up to him from the tray he carried as he approached the study. Two delicate porcelain cups, already filled with tea, sat beside the kettle, along with a small, wooden bowl of sugar cubes. Upon entering Edarin's study, Zep-par simply set the tray down on the table before sitting down across from his master. As usual, the chessboard was already set and Master Edarin was waiting patiently, wearing a kind smile as he gestured for Zep-par to make the first move.
"So, disciple—" Edarin began with a casual tone as he moved one of his pawns to block Zep-par's. "Have you had enough time to consider my question from last night?" He arched an eyebrow as Zep-par quickly took out his pawn, he'd expected this move, Zep-par was always quite confrontational.
"Master, I've given it a lot of thought," Zep-par replied slowly. "But I still don't have an answer." He sighed as he moved his knight to advance.
"You'll need to come up with something sooner or later, Zep-par," Edarin warned. He made another move, and Zep-par felt his brief victory faltering.
"Master, isn't it simply enough to have enough power to protect what's mine?" Zep-par asked. Edarin didn't fail to notice the rare trace of vulnerability in Zep-par's voice. His face softened as he held the gaze of his troubled disciple.
"Power alone is empty, Zep-par," Edarin explained. "And while protecting what is yours is fine, isn't it a waste to use it only for that?" He smiled as he moved his queen, putting Zep-par in check. "This applies to life as much as to magic, Zep-par. Without purpose, everything is hollow." He smiled as Zep-par tried moving his king out of check, a futile endeavor. Edarin moved his bishop into position and clapped his hands together in celebration. "Checkmate."
"You win again, Master," Zep-par muttered. He was always bitter after their morning chess game. Zep-par hated losing. He stood and put the chess set away and refilled his and Edarin's cups before returning to his seat.
"I admit, I'm a tad disappointed," Edarin complained softly.
"What do you mean, Master?" Zep-par inquired. He was sure that Edarin was simply put off by the fact that Zep-par still couldn't give him a challenge in chess.
"I cheated, and you didn't notice," Edarin commented haughtily. "That's no good. If you aren't aware of what your opponent is doing right in front of you, you will be little better than cannon fodder."
"Master, why would you cheat in the first place? Isn't it beneath you?" Zep-par asked icily. Edarin fixed him with a solemn gaze as he pondered how to explain the lesson he was trying to impart to his disciple.
"Zep-par, there are many dangers in our world that don't care about honor, dignity or etiquette," Edarin explained seriously. This was something Zep-par was well aware of, but the lesson hadn't truly been hammered in yet. "Sometimes, Zep-par...if you want to win, fighting fair isn't an option."
An hour later, Zep-par strolled through the town with a soft smile. The town of Gilramore was one of the larger towns in the region, and it was Gilramore that Zep-par now called home. Two years previously, when Zep-par stumbled into town, he was near dead. He had travelled for miles without rest, water or food. Fortunately, his now favorite bartender found him. The rest, was history. Zep-par stopped in the shade of a spruce tree and closed his eyes. 'This is what I wanted,' he thought to himself happily. 'Nobody stares, nobody avoids me. I'm just treated like...one of them.' He let out a contented sigh before continuing to walk.
Zep-par stopped in front of the local fruit vendor and smiled. "Tom, good morning," he greeted the middle-aged man cheerily. "How's the wife?"
"Zep-par, good morning," Tom replied with a grin. "She's over the moon. Did you hear the good news? I'm gonna be a father!"
"That's wonderful, Tom," Zep-par exclaimed. Tom and his wife, Iris had been trying to conceive for a few years, and Zep-par was truly happy for the couple who would finally be welcoming a new addition to their family. "I can't wait to meet the little one."
"Careful, I may just impose on you to babysit," Tom joked. "So, the usual?"
"That's right," Zep-par said with a nod, ignoring Tom's joke about babysitting. He handed over a couple silver coins and accepted the large sack of apples from Tom. After bidding goodbye, he left and headed down the street towards his destination. Zepar plucked an apple from the sack and bit into it as he approached the Crimson Boar Tavern.
"Zep-par, good morning," the elderly bartender greeted him after he entered the tavern.
"Boris, I keep asking you. What's so good about it?" Zep-par joked. Boris was the very bartender who had found Zep-par when he first arrived in Gilramore and had become a close friend ever since.
"Well, we're not dead yet," Boris shot back with a toothy grin. Zep-par couldn't refute his words, so he simply shook his head helplessly before handing over the sack of apples.
"I'll have the usual, Boris," Zep-par said as he took a seat at the bar. Boris nodded and stored the apples under the counter before pouring Ze-ppar a tankard of apple ale.
"I gotta say, Zep-par," Boris began in a contemplative tone. "You're really something. I can't believe none of us thought of making ale from apples before you suggested it." He eyed Zep-par curiously as the latter took a deep pull from his tankard. "Just where do these ideas of yours come from?"
"Apple ale was fairly common where I grew up," Zep-par muttered, trying to keep the tension from showing on his face as he thought of Grimcrest. "We actually had festival every year with many different delicacies that used apples." Hearing Zep-par's explanation, Boris nodded his head in understanding.
"Are you ever gonna tell me where that is?" Boris asked. "I'd love to visit some time."
"F-far away," Zep-par stammered, trying to calm his racing heart at the thought of his good friend learning what had happened to Grimcrest. Boris simply sighed in resignation. He'd known since the day they met that something bad must have happened in Zep-par's childhood. Zep-par never gave straight answers when asked about his former home. When he did give answers, they were always vague.
Zep-par's attention was drawn to a conversation a few seats down and subtley moved a little closer to listen in.
"I can't believe it," one man whispered.
"Neither can I," the other agreed, a bit louder than his companion.
"So that guy Rio, he was the demon Malvario?" the first man asked incredulously.
"Yeah, apparently he'd taken human form to be with Annabelle," the second man confirmed. "And when the knight commander killed her, he blew himself up to kill him."
"Good for him," Zep-par commented, leaning with his elbow on the bar as he sipped his ale. "He gave everything for love, and everything to punish the cretin who took his love away." The men turned to look at Zep-par with dumbfounded expressions.
"I guess, but why would a demon go so far for a human?" the second man exclaimed.
"He wanted love," Zep-par said with a dismissive shrug. "People are always going to crazy lengths for what they want." Hearing Zep-par's words, the two men looked at eachother before turning back to him.
"So what would you be willing to do to get what you want?" they asked in unison. Zep-par smirked at this question as he remembered his master's words.
"Whatever it takes."