chapter Eleven
Sparring with Magic
Twirling the stem between his fingers, Eramus held up the tiny flower, its color as bright as the sun. Buttercups, Evree had called them. He couldn't help but think of her as he studied the soft golden petals. Would there be buttercups on Verascene?
His stomach twisted so violently he thought he might spill whatever remained of his breakfast over the dark green grass. The thought of leaving filled him with unprecedented dread. How could he leave the people who had become strangers to live with the strangers that claimed to be family? He wasn't sure he could.
But leaving made the most sense. If Eramus removed himself from the village, his people would be safe. Verascene would keep him out of King Delran's reach, but it would also take him away from everything he cared about.
"It isn't fair," he muttered. "I've done nothing to deserve him hunting me like some animal."
"Life is rarely fair."
Eramus turned. Near the tree line, a man leaned against a tall oak with folded arms and a smug grin. Unlike Eramus's regular company, he wore a simple dark green tunic and brown trousers, and his disheveled black hair moved with the gentle breeze.
The man, who appeared not much older than Eramus, pushed away from the trunk and took a few steps towards him. "Born with the abilities the likes of which the world has never seen, the power to save Virgamor from the destruction of selfish men, and yet we are the ones hunted. Hated. They will never appreciate us for what we are. Respect and acceptance…they are meaningless to people like us."
He stopped a few feet away and stared out over the meadow. Eramus clenched his jaw. He was growing tired of strangers constantly showing up in his life and had certainly had his fill for one day. "Who are you?"
The man chuckled. "He said you would be suspicious. I suppose I can't blame you for that, not with the way your people have treated you."
"He? You mean Morzaun?"
"Yes. He'll be joining us soon, but I think he sensed you needed guidance. Unfortunately, he thought I would make a suitable substitute until he could come himself." He laughed and shook his head. "But I'm no good at this sort of thing."
Knowing Morzaun sent the man provided Eramus with little comfort. "And why would he send you in the first place?"
"We are family," answered the man. "That must count for something." His outstretched hand made Eramus's stomach knot. "The name's Zeeran."
That name. His mother had mentioned it in his dream. What had she said?Zeeran was nearly ten…At the time, Eramus hadn't known what she meant, too focused on understanding the lost memories invading his mind, but now he wondered if she was referring to magic. Eramus had gained the ability to wield magic when he was eight; it seemed Zeeran had been slightly older.
"You can use magic," said Eramus, ignoring Zeeran's attempt at pleasantries. "My mother spoke of you."
"Did she? Nice things, I hope? I always liked Aunt Senniva. Shame I didn't come to know her better before…well, you understand. Boils my blood, what happened. But Sytal got what he deserved in the end."
Eramus's head reeled. He massaged his temple, hoping to ease the throbbing, remnants of his tussle with Arnan. "My mother was your aunt?"
Zeeran snorted. "That is how the whole cousin deal works."
"You're my cousin?"
Zeeran spoke plainly, but Eramus struggled to comprehend his words. His head injury probably had something to do with it, but the unprecedented amount of information he'd received in the last hour didn't help either.
An exasperated sigh drew his attention. "Yes, Eramus. I was under the impression Morzaun had cleared this part up, but it appears I am mistaken. Your father and my mother were siblings. You were told about the three children who found the Virgàm, were you not?"
Eramus nodded. Of those details, he was aware. He even thought he knew their identities.
"Right. So, there was your father and both of my parents. They are the original wielders of magic. Passed their abilities on to us, although we are not nearly as strong as they are. Bit frustrating, that."
"Yelene and Aldeth are your parents?"
The color drained from Zeeran's face, and Eramus immediately regretted the words. Morzaun had told him nothing of his aunt and uncle, and he couldn't shake the feeling that there was a reason for the negligence.
Zeeran's eyes narrowed, and suspicion filled his tone. "That's correct. But how did you—"
A soft whizzing cut him off. In a moment, Morzaun's body materialized before them. He clenched the round amulet in his hand, the blue glow fading once the black dust had all swirled into place.
"Ah, Eramus. I was hoping Zeeran would find you."
