Whimsy.
Grandeur.
Certainly something more than a run-of-the-mill farmhouse.
There was one thing that felt off though–the fact that Elric was a shriveled old man and Marta appeared to be about thirty years his junior. The woman had barely a wrinkle and was married to a grizzled old man. Perhaps she was his second, maybe even his third wife.
And exactly how old were they if they’d been helping Selvyn since the sacrifices started?
How old was Selvyn?
I’d have to ask him later. It would be impolite to bring it up over dinner.
I stared across the dining table at Selvyn, marveling at how at ease he seemed in the world outside of his cave. If friends like these cherished him, why did he steal himself away to rot in the dark?
I wouldn’t allow myself to dwell on it though. This was our final night together, and I was determined to savor it.
Selvyn caught me staring at him, his golden eyes simmering as his tongue darted out to wet his lips.
I was reminded of the night before, of that forked tongue and all the wicked ways he used it.
Selvyn’s nostrils flared, taking deep inhales of my arousal while Elric told him a story. The old man was completely unaware of the exchange Selvyn and I were having at the dining table–and that made it all the more enticing.
It was at that moment that Marta rushed back into the room, a steaming hen in a ceramic dish floating out in front of her.
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing…Surely there were strings or…
Elric caught my dazed expression and let out a booming laugh. “Ah, yes. That’s the usual reaction from those that haven’t grown up around magic.”
The hen landed on the table with a soft thud and Marta nudged her husband’s shoulder. “Go on, Elric. Why don’t you show her your little trick?”
“Yes, show her Elric,” Selvyn urged.
“Alright, alright,” Elric huffed. “But you know I much prefer to take on this appearance.”
Elric closed his eyes and pursed his lips. A low hum resonated from the back of his throat, and the air grew thick with static—as if the magic was being pulled from the air and gathered around us. A dense fog encompassed Elric’s body until the old man was no longer visible. The mist churned around him in great whorls, and when it finally dissipated,a handsome man no older than thirty sat in his place at the table.
“What do you think? He asked with a mischievous grin. Even his voice was different; it no longer carried the rasp that came with age.
I had to be seeing things. I rubbed my eyes and Selvyn broke out in laughter.
“Elric here can shift into any humanoid form he wishes. Why he prefers an old man is beyond me,” Marta said with a sigh.
“I don’t prefer it all the time.” Elric winked at his wife and she rolled her eyes.
Normally, I would have laughed, but I was much too stunned for that.
“The ability to shift into any human form,” I mumbled to myself under my breath, then glanced at Marta. “Is there a name for your magic?”
“It’s called levitation.” Using her magic, she lifted a plate from the stack on the table and set it in front of me. “I can move objects and suspend myself off the ground a bit, but I’m not nearly as talented as Elric. He’s a direct descendent of the original folk of this land.”
Selvyn must have noticed the look of confusion that crossed over my face. “The folk were here long before humans. No one knows exactly how or when they came to be, but they’ve lived here for centuries, harnessing the magic of the land for good. When humans first appeared in this realm, the folk tried their best to be amicable with them, to share their gifts, but the humans were reluctant to let go of their old beliefs. Denouncing magic as witchcraft, they chose to live separate from the folk and settled across the mountain. That’s how it’s been ever since.”
Both Elric and Marta nodded their heads in agreement.
Magic.
The folk.
