AN: Please note Chapter Two has been updated with sections added at the end.
Chapter Two – Cleft
Dawn crept over the treetops as Cleft scrubbed the last of the blood from his hands, but no matter how hard he worked, he could still feel the sticky warmth beneath his nails. Alira’s blood, his own blood, the sigil.
He squeezed his eyes shut, but that only summoned the memories more vividly.
I have found you!
That monstrous certainty echoed through his mind.
Cleft’s breath hitched and the water in the basin quivered, as if recoiling from his touch. He opened his eyes and stared back at his own reflection – a pair of blue eyes stared back at him, wide and unsettled, lost in the memories he had spent years burying.
He was six years old the year they came, it was the year they took his mother’s life. He remembered the eyes, dozens of them in the shadows the same as the day in the forest. He remembered his mother’s voice, the sound of her shoving him back just as they took her life. Even now, the memories of it felt like it was yesterday.
His grip on the basin tightened as he saw a flicker of flame through the corner of his eye. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. The power, that power still pulsed through him.
He glanced at the walls behind him, they had lines carved into them, much like the lines he had carved into Alira. His master, Kaelith had carved those lines ten years ago when he saved Cleft from the wolves, arriving as if someone had sent him, and spent the next decade training him into the Adeptus he was meant to become.
“Some magic” Kaelith had once said. “Are best left forgotten.”
Back then, it felt like a warning. A distant threat meant to scare him into discipline. Now it felt like prophecy fulfilled. True, he had saved Alira’s life, but at what cost? After all, magic like this did not give without taking something in return.
A soft knock broke the silence.
Cleft’s head snapped toward the door. For a moment, he thought it was Kaelith, coming to chastise him for what he had done. Then he remembered Kaelith had disappeared three months ago, leaving only a note claiming he was out to acquire more wine. Cleft hadn’t thought much of it at the time, noting that this wasn’t the first time his master disappeared, but as the weeks stretched on, he began to wonder if Kaelith’s disappearance was by choice or consequence.
The knock came again, firmer this time.
Cleft wiped his damp hands on his tunic and stepped cautiously towards the door. Something was wrong, Kaelith never knocked. The silence that followed was heavier than the pounding had been.
Then a calm voice spoke through the wooden doors. “Cleft Vanderval, I seek audience.”
Cleft froze. His hand hovered above the latch to the door. His training urged him to extinguish the flames sparking to life within the palm of his hand, but fear flared them brighter. He slowly opened the door an inch, then another.
A man stood in the doorway, framed by dawn light. His identity was veiled behind a cloak that overshadowed his face. He stood a couple of inches taller than Cleft, a man judging by the structure of his built. Powerful arms matched his broad chest. His cloak melted into the night with silver ridges concealing its edge, the fabric rich enough to signal nobility. Upon his index finger gleamed a white gold ring shaped into the seal of the High Council.
An Adeptus. And a high ranking one.
The man pushed his hood back to reveal sharp features matched by eyes the color of stormwater. He was young, much too young for someone that carried such presence. “I am Elio Marrowind of the High Council. I come on behalf of the capital.”
Cleft swallowed, suddenly aware of the blood stains along his knuckles. “What do you want?” He managed.
Elio stepped inside without waiting for permission. His eyes moved lazily across the room, from the intricate markings on the walls to the empty wine bottles cluttering the halls. When his gaze landed on the flames gathering faintly in Cleft’s hand, surprise flickered across his face before being concealed behind a mask of indifference.
“Your master, Kaelith, has not reported to the High Council in three months.” Elio stated. “And that he left you unprepared.”
Cleft clenched his fists, extinguishing the flames. “What do you mean?”
Elio studied him for a long, unsettling moment – long enough that Cleft felt something in the air press gently against him, probing, testing.
“You used it.” Elio said quietly. “The sigil. Last night.”
Cleft stepped back, eyes narrowing. “You felt that?”
“Every Adeptus within a fifty-mile radius felt that.” Elio’s tone sharpened. “Forbidden magic like that does not whisper, Cleft, it screams.”
A chill clawed down Cleft’s spine. Kaelith’s warning echoed his mind.
Some magic are best left forgotten.
“I’m afraid this has alerted the creature of the shadows.” Elio continued. “They will soon come for you.”
Cleft’s heart skipped a beat. “The same thing that-?”
“Yes.” Elio confirmed. “The creatures that took your mother, they will come for you.” Elio inched closer. “The High Council has issued a summons. You are to come to the capital for protection, and assessment.”
Cleft flinched at the word. Suspicion flared his eyes. He chose his next set of words carefully. “And if I refuse?”
“I’m afraid the High Council will try to persuade you again.” Elio’s lips curved, amused. “With someone…less patient.”
Cleft stiffened. “I’m not leaving Alira.”
“You healed her with the sigil.” Elio cut in. “She is already being escorted to the capital for examination with her brother.”
Cleft’s heart lurched. “What? She needs rest, not assessment!”
“She needs to live.” Elio said simply. “And so do you.” He extended a gloved hand toward the doorway. “Gather what you can, we leave by midday.”
Cleft stared at the flames flickering faintly beneath his skin. He had no choice, not anymore.
The capital had come for him.
And something else was coming too.
***
Elio Marrowind kept his spine straight as he stepped outside the cottage, but the moment the door clicked shut behind him, the mask of calm fractured. He had expected Cleft to be raw, untrained, and volatile, but he had not expected that depth of power. Kaelith had always been reckless – brilliant, but reckless, and a decade under him with half the training and none of the discipline the Council required had bred an untamed force.
Elio took a deep breath, trying to dispel the unease and allowed his gaze to wonder. Beyond the cottage, Veredale stretched across the valley, tranquil and unassuming. Timber-framed cottages dotted the landscape, smoke curling lazily from chimneys. Kaelith had always spoken of retiring to a place like this, a peaceful corner of the world where the greatest concern was the morning frost.
A breeze drifted down from the mountains, cool and clean. Elio paused, letting it pass over him. He remembered the night when he first felt Cleft’s power, raw and untamed. His master had summoned him in mere seconds. It was as if she had known, all along, exactly where he had been.
“Bring him to me.” She had commanded in the courtyard, her voice quiet but absolute.
Elio had only nodded. Even now, he could picture her expression. The Lady of the House, always poise and composed. But that night, her mask had cracked. Surprise flickered first, then anguish, followed by fear.
Elio had not understood then – not fully. Now, as the mountain breeze tugged lightly at his cloak, Elio felt the same dread his master undoubtedly felt. Cleft Vanderval had used more of the ancient magic than he realized, far more.
He watched through the open window as Cleft packed in silence. The boy’s movements were stiff, almost mechanical: folding a cloak, tucking away a waterskin that clearly seen better years. Not once did he breathe like someone at ease. Every shift of his shoulders carried the same tension pulsing through his skin.
Elio’s gaze followed the boy as he exited the cottage. “Are you ready?” He asked quietly.
Cleft nodded slowly. He turned toward Veredale and let his eyes sweep across the valley; the river curling like silver ribbon through the trees, the distant smoke rising from morning hearths. For sixteen years, this had been all he knew.
“Will I ever return to this place again?” He murmured.
Elio hesitated before answering. “Perhaps one day.”
There was a look of determination in Cleft when he turned his back towards the valley. Deep down, apart of him wanted to leave. He wanted to see the world, to see what possibilities existed beyond the boundaries of his home, his only certainty.
Finally, Cleft took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. “I’m ready.”
Elio smirked. The boy was stronger than he knew. “We ride until dawn.”
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