A/N: Hello South Park fans! This is work that so far, for me, has been years in the making. I'm currently about halfway through the story. Now listen up, because this is important;
I AM ONLY POSTING THIS ONE CHAPTER FOR NOW.
I'm up to chapter 10, but I will NOT be posting anymore until the fic has been completely finished because I don't think it's fair to you guys to do that, so I'm telling you ahead of time.
Anyways, think of this chapter as a demo for whether or not you'd be interested in this type of story. It's in the Stick Of Truth AU, but that and the classes and races are pretty much all I'm keeping the same, so it's NOT AT ALL BASED ON THE VIDEO GAME.
I really hope you guys like this first chapter, and PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK. The story isn't done, so if you have any ideas, tell me! I'm always open to creative advice and suggestions, as well as constructive criticism! The title is also a work in progress, so if you think of something good, let me know!
Enjoy!
Lesson 1: Never Yell at a Wizard
He had been eleven when his mother and father had rushed into their home in Andara, one of the biggest Elven cities in the land, which had just fell under siege
"Kyle, hurry!" His mother had yelled, as she scooped up a seven-year-old Ike from the tower he had been building out of wooden blocks. "We have to leave!"
"Why?" he had asked, standing up to watch his father try to collect as many of their valuables as he could, before moving to him.
"We're under attack!" He had yelled, picking the small redhead up. "We need to flee the city!"
"Wait, my necklace!" His father gave him a funny look as they left the house.
"You don't need a necklace, you're a man Kyle," but his dad still turned around, grabbing the thin golden necklace in his hand before leaving the house once agaIn, starting to run to where Sheila and Ike were waiting. Looking back at his father, Kyle opened his mouth to thank him when a massive explosion sounded behind them. The hot air blasted into him and his father, sending them flying. As Kyle hit the ground with a thud, he looked in the direction the blast had come.
A boy hovered in the air above them, pointing a little away from him. His magenta robes flowed around him, dark blue cape blowing in the wind as the fire behind him picked up, sending flying embers and sparks in the boy's direction. He didn't look very old, in fact, he couldn't be more than a few years older than Kyle at most. But the look in his brown eyes made Kyle flinch away in horror. The sheer delight as the boy surveyed the destruction around him was terrifying. No one should look that glad that they're attacking an entire race. As his eyes flicker to what the floating boy is staring and laughing at, his eyes widen, filling with tears, mouth dropping open.
As his mother races over to his father's still body, Kyle can only sit in shock and stare as she tearfully closes his glazed-over eyes. When they were thrown from the blast, his father landed on top of the carnage of a nearby building, the rubble and broken glass lodging themselves deep into his body. Blood pools beneath him as the boy floated down, getting closer as he readied another blast for his mother and brother. Scrambling to his feet, Kyle races towards the wizard, a shriek erupting from his lips.
The shocked boy barely has time to look in his direction before he's been tackled out of the air by Kyle, the two of them landing on the ground. Before he can do or say anything, Kyle has placed a well-aimed right hook on the boy's left cheek. Howling in pain, the boy rolls onto his side as Kyle reaches his mother and brother, taking their hands and pulling them away. He can hear the boy's outraged cries behind him, and it's only when they've safely reached the woods that he allows himself to look back.
Andara, his home for the last eleven years of his life, is engulfed in flames, the screams of it's citizens echoing throughout the broken streets. He can see others fleeing the city, but nowhere near as many actually make it to the trees.
As his family races away into the woods, Kyle can only freeze in place, looking back to stare in sheer horror, powerless, as he sees his kin falling prey to the roving wizards above, flames licking their heels before overtaking them fully. And one boy rises above the rest, his hate-filled eyes lit by the fire, appearing almost red with lust and rage, a small fist-shaped bruise swelling onto his left cheek. For a moment, it's as if he's looking straight at Kyle. A wicked grin crosses his face and, with a snap of his fingers, an inferno engulfs the entire city, a fire so thick that Kyle can't even see the shapes of the buildings anymore. The smell of burning flesh and the shrieks of dying elves surround him as he crumples to his knees.
The floating boy's laughter dies down as he turns in midair, barking an order to the rest of the wizards and soldiers, who soon begin to retreat. Only once they've gone, does the boy look back - and vanish. Kyle blinks, looking for him in the sky, only for the boy to appear directly in front of him. Squeaking, Kyle jumps back, landing on his butt on the ground as fear coursed through him. The boy cackles, striding over to him.
"Calm down, asshole," he says, his voice barely masking the malice within. "I'm not gonna kill you. Not yet." Furrowing his brow in confusion, Kyle replies slowly, his voice rising in anger.
"You killed my dad, my friends, my people, so it's obviously something you could do - and I even punched you. So why not me," Standing, he moves face-to-face with the older teen. "Because I guarantee, let me live, and I'll be the one to kill you." Scoffing, the boy rolls his eyes.
"Because I want to, dumbass. And please, like you could do anything to me. In fact, I'd like to see you try." Narrowing his eyes, Kyle raises his fist, only for it to freeze in midair, switching directions and landing on his own face instead. Stumbling a few feet, he swivels his head to stare at his hand and then at the wizard.
"Payback," he says, though no question was voiced. "Still, after almost a full year of killing elves, you're the only one to land a hit on me. A scrawny, redheaded, fragile, breakable, Jewish elf. Go. Before I change my mind. Scum." He spits out that last word, curling his lip in disgust. Kyle had seen the crazed light in his eyes grow with each insult, spiralling into a frighteningly insane look. He had two options now. Run into the woods and escape with his life, or risk that to find out more.
"If I'm that awful, why let me live?" Kyle asks, his curiosity getting the better of him. Clamping a hand over his mouth, he silently cursed his curious mind. Obviously surprised the redhead was still there, the brunette looks back and grins ferociously.
"Who doesn't love a challenge?" As the words left his lips, the boy leaned in towards Kyle, whispering one last thing into his ear. A sly grin was all Kyle saw before the boy disappeared.
He could hear his mother calling for him from deep within the woods, the voices of the survivors floating up through the leaves. Fear was racing through his veins but he felt something else too, something he couldn't put his finger on. And as the flames die down, rain beginning to fall - too late - upon the broken city, Kyle could only replay the words the boy whispered to him.
"You'll make a great plaything for the Grand Wizard."
…
Five years later, and Kyle's memories of that night had faded into a blur. His mother told him it was most likely due to the trauma of the incident, but he couldn't help but think it was something else. After that night, he had done everything he could to discover the reasons behind those events, and it was for that very reason that he was going to visit the town's scholar, Jerome, known to everyone as Chef. The wise old man always gave the best advice in the town and his knowledge seemed to be endless. Chef had told Kyle, all those years ago when he had asked, that Kyle needed to wait until he was old enough to hear the truth behind those events, and today, his sixteenth birthday, marked the day he would convince Chef to tell him.
As he strolled through the quiet village of Vernost, he couldn't help but appreciate how much the elves had accomplished in five years.
What had started as a large, empty clearing in the forest, was now a bustling little village, one that had bloomed over the past half-decade. Hidden by the best cloaking magic the village elders could muster, it had remained one of the last strongholds for the Drow elves of Zaron. Refugees from other cities had entered the town, which had been forced to grow to accommodate them. Talk of exceeding the limits on their territory had spread quickly, and people began to grow restless within the walls of the spell. Rumors of human soldiers marching closer and closer each day were whispered throughout the streets. The town had slowly become quieter than it once was, it's citizens living in the fear they had already so desperately tried to escape. And Kyle hated that.
"Hey! Mr. Birthday Boy!" A voice caught his attention, and he turned to see a girl with curly brown hair walking over to him, her light brown eyes flickering in the sunlight peeking through the branches of the trees. Kyle smiled happily, stopping to wait for her.
Rebecca Cotswolds was his childhood friend, two years younger and the girl he'd had a crush on for the longest time, one that was reciprocated by Rebecca as well. However, her father and brother forbade her from dating until she was sixteen, so she and Kyle had made a promise to share their first kiss on her sixteenth birthday. Until then, they would stay close friends.
"What are you up to so early in the morning?" She teased. "Sneaking off to Chef's again?" Kyle sighed.
"There's no fooling you, is there Rebecca?"
"Nope! You can try, but no one knows Kyle Broflovski better than I do!" He laughed.
"Half the time I think you know me better than I do!"
"I wouldn't be surprised if that's the case." She smiled back, falling into step beside him. "Although it's pretty obvious you're hiding something."
"Oh?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "And what, pray tell, would that be?"
"If I knew, would I be asking?" His expression prompted her to go on, and she sighed. "Kyle, ever since Andara… you know, you've been different. More distant I suppose. Like you're hiding something that could potentially be life-changing, world-changing even." He laughed, but the awkwardness in his voice only confirmed her suspicions.
"I don't know why I'd ever know something that important, Rebecca."
"I don't either, but you do! I understand why your mom doesn't know, but why can't you tell me? Or your brother?" His face shifted, and, for a moment, Rebecca thought she saw a glimpse of a Kyle Broflovski previously unknown to her, his face twisted into a scowl mustered from so much rage that he looked like a different person altogether. And it scared her. But as soon as she saw it, it was gone, replaced by a smile that was so normal and pleasant that she almost thought she had imagined it. Almost.
"Rebecca, I swear I'm not hiding anything. At least, nothing that concerns you, or anyone else in Vernost. It's my problem, so don't worry about it." Searching his green eyes for any sign that he was lying, she finally sighed softly as she found none.
"If you say so, Kyle."
"Good." He smiled at her, before pulling her close. "You should be getting home. You know Mark and your dad will be upset if you're not there." Frowning, she pulled away.
"Those two are way too overprotective."
"They just want to keep you safe. You were still too young, but-"
"I know, I know, thousands of elves lost their lives in the wars with the humans, my mother and your father included, and you guys are only concerned for my safety, blah, blah, blah." She muttered in a perfectly memorized mini-lecture. "I was still nine, I can remember some stuff. Just not a lot."
"As long as you know why we're doing it."
"Yeah, yeah. Hurry down to Chef's, Kyle. Wouldn't wanna be too late, or beware! He might have women in his bed again." Laughing, he waved as she raced away. Watching until the door to her house a block away closed, he turned back onto the road, making his way down the empty avenue.
The sun had barely risen, so Kyle knew his mother was almost certainly still in bed. Ike had caught him sneaking off, but had let him leave with the promise that he'd take him out to play later. Things seemed to be perfectly normal. And then, above him, the sky flickered. It was only for an instant, not more than a second or two, but it was enough to catch his attention. He looked up and was shocked to find the sky blue before it flashed back to violet. Normally, the cloaking spell made it look that shade of purple, but it had been a vivid blue like he had never seen. And then he put two and two together. And then he was running.
He ran as fast as his legs would carry him to Chef's front door and threw it open to see a frantic looking Chef throwing on his robe and slippers, the sound of nervous whispering coming from the direction of the bedroom.
"Child!" Chef said in surprise as he awkwardly fumbled with the tie of the robe. "What are you doing here?"
"Chef, the sky!" Kyle answered frantically. "It was-"
"Blue. I saw," the big man answered as he straightened up, brushing past Kyle and out the door. "Something's wrong with the machine."
"What is it?" Kyle asked as he followed Chef down the paved road and onto a thin dirt path leading into the woods.
"If I knew, I wouldn't be going to look, would I?"
"Sorry, dumb question. Can you fix it?"
"Well child, it's still working. It might not need fixing. Either way, we shouldn't try to panic yet or-"
"Or what Chef-" Kyle was cut off as Chef's hand covered his mouth, the large man bringing a finger to his lips.
"There are voices," he growled, his voice low and guttural. "Strange ones."
Kyle focused and realized that he could hear them as well. They weren't close enough to make them out, but there were indeed voices coming from further down the path. The pair crept closer, staying to the edge of the dirt road. Figures could be made out through the trees as they neared the clearing where the cloaking device was. Four men, three of them clothed in dark robes, were standing around the device. The three in robes stood with their hands out while chanting some strange language. The last, a rather tall man looked different from the rest. He wasn't wearing the traditional wizard robes of the others, instead donning a dark brown tunic and deep navy blue pants tucked into black boots. An olive green cape fell over his shoulders, and his helmet and wristbands were made of the same silver metal, the hilt of a sword with a strange glow to it poking out from his hip. Tufts of black hair poked out from under the helmet, his piercing blue eyes watching the three wizards with just a hint of disdain. As the two grew closer to the group, Kyle could feel something stir within him. He was getting a feeling from this man, but what it was Kyle couldn't quite tell. As he and Chef grew closer, the voices grew louder until they were practically unintelligible yells.
"What are they saying?" Kyle asked.
"It's magic," Chef answered as his arms fell to his sides, a look of horror on his face. "They're trying to break the cloaking field."
"What?! We have to stop them!" Kyle said as he started racing forwards.
"Child, no!" Chef yelled just a huge BOOM punctuated the air, a mushroom cloud of earth, dust and debris shooting into the now-open blue sky as flames erupted from the machine and it shattered into a thousand pieces.
The splintered fragments of metal and glass were sent flying, many of them in Kyle's direction. The elf boy barely had time to fling his hands up before the fiery cloud of debris consumed him.
"Kyle!" Chef yelled in dismay as he left the cover of the trees. The cloud was too thick to see through and he could no longer make out the shape of the boy or the four men. Moving his hands into the correct position, Chef muttered something under his breath, and with a yell, let out a burst of chilled air that went ripping through the heat and dust to clear it away.
Kyle didn't really understand what was happening. One moment there was dirt and broken debris all around him and the next, fire. As the scorching flames licked around his body, he flinched, ready for the searing pain that was to come. But nothing happened. Slowly, he cracked open one eye, before the other burst open in surprise. All around him the air was ablaze, pieces of glass and metal still flying around, flames licking his feet - but he wasn't burned. He was fine. And as the cloud was blown away from him, he turned slowly to meet Chef's amazed stare.
"Child, you…" the man's voice trailed off in shock before his eyes widened in realization. "My God… it was right under my nose this whole time." He whispered.
As Kyle stared at him in confusion, the four men from before were freed from the cloud of smoke and dust. They began shouting at one another, moving towards Kyle and Chef. Almost immediately, Chef was between them and Kyle.
"Child, run! Warn the village!" Chef commanded. "I'll try to hold them off!"
"But Chef, I can't just leave you, you'll-"
"Don't worry about me, child! You cannot die here! The very fate of the world is on your shoulders!" Chef answered with such conviction that Kyle was shocked into silence for a moment - but only a moment.
"What're you-"
"Kyle!" Chef said so angrily that the redhead stumbled back. "Go! It will make sense in time."
Kyle stared for another second, before finally nodding. As he turned to go, his eyes met with the black-haired man's. Their sky blue gaze was fixated on him, staring so fervently that they seemed to be looking into his soul. Kyle shivered before ripping his gaze away to turn and race down the dirt path.
As he burst through the trees, he was met with a sight he never thought he'd see again- destruction. The village was in flames, just like Andara five years ago. Shrieks and screams were rising from the town, and he could see both elves and humans in the slew of carnage. Hundreds of thoughts flicked through his mind, but one of them rose above the rest: Rebecca.
And without a second thought, he raced into the burning city.
The roads were amuck with elves trying to flee, and there was no shortage of wizards and soldiers among them. Kyle narrowly avoided swords and bolts of lightning and fire as he turned the corner on the route he had walked so many times before, doing his best to avoid the burning chunks of rubble flying in his direction from the explosions. As he rounded the last bent, he halted as he saw the familiar house in flames.
"Rebecca!" He cried, running even faster as he pulled his shirt over his nose. Kicking the door until it collapses under his foot, he burst into the burning home. "Rebecca!" He called again, trying to block out the smoke. Making his way through to the kitchen, carefully avoiding the flames, he entered the doorway and stopped dead in his tracks.
Three bodies laid around the kitchen floor, some areas charred and black, some still burning while still others simply holes of bloody flesh. The stench of burnt hair and cooking meat fills the room, a blackened area where their kitchen table had been standing. One of the wizards must have blown it up, Kyle realized. And then he picks out Rebecca. Young, beautiful, perfect Rebecca, with her whole life ahead of her. Still yet-to-be-kissed Rebecca. His first crush and his closest friend. Half of her chest is missing, her hair and clothes ablaze with flames. A deep crevice in her skull reveals bits of gray matter and skull fragments from where it caved in, and the sticky substance around her isn't just red because of the light of the fire. And all Kyle does is turn and run.
Reaching the outside, he stumbles to the ground, vomiting. Between coughs of mucus, he can feel sobs welling up within his chest. Swallowing, he stifles them down, somehow standing up and running away. He can only pray his family hasn't met the same fate as the Cotswolds. He didn't think he could stomach another sight like that, especially not his family.
He's barely gone a few meters, turning a corner only to crash into someone. Landing on the ground, he hopes for a moment that it's someone trying to escape. However, when he looks up, all hope dissipates. Standing above him, staring down icily, is the same warrior he saw only a few scarce minutes before. Kyle scrambled back, getting to his feet, his back pressed against the tall building behind him. Watching him, the raven-haired man stares in shock, before striding towards him. Before Kyle can run away, the man has grabbed his arm and yanked him towards him - just as the rafters of the building above them start to shake. Not a second later the whole thing comes crashing down on top of itself. Breathing hard, Kyle realizes that this man, this human, has just saved him from certain death by getting crushed. He turns back to the warrior, who's still staring at him incredulously.
"You… You saved me," Kyle murmurs. "...Why?" The boy cocks his head, before grinning.
"Because I want to." The response is eerily familiar. Remembering the evil glint in the brunette boy's eyes all those years ago, he stares warily at this man. However, within his eyes is something Kyle has never seen before in the eyes of a human. Compassion. Pain. Sympathy. Sorrow. And it shocks him to his very core.
"...Why would you want to." It's not a question, and Kyle continues. "Why would any human want to. They hate us. They think we're scum, that we're inferior, that we're lesser beings. The human race is performing mass genocide just because we're elves, why would one of them ever, ever, ever help one of us?!" The warrior's blue eyes harden, and the raven-haired boy speaks.
"I don't agree with what they're doing. I think the Grand Wizard is wrong." Kyle can't help his mouth from falling open, wanting to stammer some kind of response but finding no words to reply.
"That's why," the boy continues. "We're leaving."
"Wha-" Before he has time to say anything, the man has picked him up, thrown him over his shoulder, and started to run towards the forest. For a moment, Kyle is too shocked to speak, before remembering where he was going before.
"Stop!" He yells, beginning to hit the man's back. "Put me down!"
"What!? Why?!"
"Please!" Kyle begs. "My mom, my brother… I'm all they have! I have to see them! Please!" Listening to the redhead's plaintive cries, the warrior furrowed his brow, frowning. Letting out a deep sigh, he turned.
"Where to," he asks quietly. Kyle points and he runs. The warrior does his best to avoid the explosions, the roving wizards and soldiers, the burnt bodies littering the streets, and the fleeing survivors, but that doesn't stop Kyle from seeing them. Smelling them. Hearing them. And once again, he's powerless. Finally they turn onto another street, and the boy has to stop when Kyle doesn't point him in a new direction. Opening his mouth to question, he's cut off as the boy whispers something almost inaudible.
"Down." Clearing his throat, he says it again. "Put me down." The man does so and stands back as the boy walks forward a few feet, towards a particularly large pile of rubble. And slowly, the warrior realizes why Kyle told him to stop. The redhead shudders, before starting to laugh.
"This… this is a joke, right?" He says quietly, his voice slowly rising. "You're kidding, right? This can't be, this, this isn't, I just… no…" Nearing the rubble, he looks out over it, green eyes surveying the piles of debris. Falling on something in particular, his legs give out and he crumbles to the ground, tears welling in his eyes. A hand is sticking out from underneath a boulder, barely visible in the shadows of the house's remains. A pale hand with a tiny gold wedding ring around its finger. All Kyle can do is stare in horror. It takes a moment for him to realize that something wet is falling down his face, and yet another before he realizes that they're tears. And then he's crying. Long, guttural sobs wrack the boy's small body, echoing through the air and bouncing off the buildings.
The raven-haired warrior watches this, unsure of what to do. He didn't really know this boy well enough to comfort him, and the elf didn't really look like he wanted that either. However, when a group of soldiers turned the corner, attracted to the cries, he left no time for the redhead to decide what to do next. He picked him up again, this time running as fast as he possibly can, cursing under his breath.
"No!" The redhead yells, reaching his hand out towards the house, growing farther and farther away. "Put me down! There's no point anymore! Everyone's dead!" He wails. "Just let me die, already; I hate this! I can't do anything!"
"Shut up!" The man yells angrily, tightening his grip. "Do you really think that's what they'd want? For you to die too? Now quit screaming and struggling and let me fucking run!" Kyle's fighting dies down a bit after that, but he's still crying, and the warrior can feel the angry sobs that wrack the small body of the elven boy.
"I can't do anything…" Kyle whimpered, clenching his fists around the boy's green cape. "Again, I can't do anything…"
…
The warrior doesn't stop running for hours, and if Kyle was still in his right mind, he'd be impressed by the man's strength. However, all he could think about was how he failed his family, his best friends, his future wife, his brother, everyone. And how he might just be the only Drow elf left in the world. The thought scares him, and it's this he can't help but mutter as the man finally, finally puts him down.
Falling onto the ground next to him, the warrior glances at him, thinking carefully before replying. "That's probably wrong." He says after a moment. "You don't know, others might have escaped the town too. And, I take it that was your mother by her ring, but what about your brother? You said you had one, right? Was there any sign he died too?" Kyle glanced at the man, before his eyes flickered back to the ground. After a moment of silence, he replies.
"No," he whispered in a voice hoarse from crying. The warrior flinched slightly at how broken the boy sounded.
"See?" The man said optimistically. "He might still be alive. And I know for a fact that the Grand Wizard hasn't eliminated all the elves. There are strongholds like Vernost littered all over the world. He hasn't found them all yet, and it's killing him inside." Kyle sighed wearily, turning to look at the warrior.
It's the first good look the man has gotten of the elf. The boy's curly red hair is drenched in sweat, pale skin peeking through the soot-stained cheeks. His dark orange sleeveless tunic and deep green pants are tucked into tall dark brown boots, long green fingerless glove stretching up his arms. All his clothes are blackened and charred, with small burnt holes surrounding red skin where the burning debris must have hit him. But what's most surprising to him are the elven boy's eyes. They're a shade of green so deep and bright that they practically glow in the midday sunlight, dappled by the leaves. The warrior can easily see the defeat and pain reflected in those emerald orbs. But somewhere, buried beyond that, is the faint flicker of determination and strength. And the warrior knows he made the right choice helping this boy flee.
"How do you know so much about this?" Kyle asked him quietly. "And why are you telling me?"
"I am, well, was now, one of the Grand Wizard's commanders in his army. I was the leading officer for the first and second platoons in my sector. I've been working for him for four years, and he's let me get close to him. Well, as close as you can get to someone like him. He told me a lot, since I was one of the leading officials. As for the why, well… my first siege was five years ago. I was only a fifteen year old kid at the time."
"Why so young?"
"Well, I had been born into the military basically. My dad was obsessed with nationalism and that kind of shit, so I spent my whole life learning to fight. Apparently I had a gift for it. Anyway, by then I was better than most of the generals. They just thought I was ready. Anyway, I still remember it to this day. I wonder if you've heard of it, it was in Andara."
"...I lived there. That siege was…"
"...Oh. I'm sorry."
"It's not like you knew at the time."
"That doesn't excuse it though. I can't remember how many people I killed before I realized just that. They were people. Maybe a different race, but otherwise the same. I was murdering mothers, fathers, sisters, wives, friends. And I hated it the second I realized that. And then I literally stumbled onto an elf who wasn't dead quite yet. He had been impaled, and clearly wasn't going to make it, but I… I couldn't help it. I wound up breaking down and trying to save him. It was stupid and I knew I'd die if I got caught, but I couldn't help it, I just felt awful. I probably looked pretty stupid, apologizing while crying like that. But then he said something. He told me to make up for this by living the best I could from then on, adhering to what I believed in, not what I was told. He somehow managed to forgive me. And I still think I don't deserve that. But he did. And then he told me something about a son, and gave me this." The warrior stopped, rummaging in his pouch until his fist clenched around something, and he pulled it from his bag. It was a delicate, thin golden chain necklace. "He said to give it to him. But I don't-" He stops when Kyle wrenches the necklace from his grasp, studying it, his green eyes as wide as saucers.
"This…" he whispers, looking at the warrior. "This is mine."
"Seriously?" The boy asks after a moment. "Is it really?"
"It's an old family heirloom. I dropped it all the way back in Andara. I thought I lost it forever…"
"Well then it looks like I owe your father a debt. He said the necklace would help you when the time comes. He said it was-" he stops as Kyle pulls on the necklace and, almost immediately, a radiating glow sparks from the chain, illuminating the elven boy, slowly repairing his clothes and removing the soot and burns from his pale skin.
"-magic." Kyle finishes for him. "I had no idea I could use magic- but before… that makes sense now. But it's strange, almost no one from the elf clans can use magic anymore. And even if they can, they're never strong enough to use healing magic. The only other person I knew who could do that was Chef. He was the elder of our village, even though he wasn't that old. And now he's…It was to save me. He sacrificed himself. For me…" His voice trailed off as that same look of pain and regret crossed his delicate features. Before he could look any more defeated, the warrior spoke up quickly.
"You need to learn how to use that," He said, and Kyle looked at him in surprise, snapping out of his thoughts.
"What? Why?"
"Because! That's what your people would want! That's what your village elder would want! If you become strong, then you could even oppose the Grand Wizard! He uses magic, so if you can get as strong as him…"
"...I could overthrow him…" Kyle finishes, a faint smile crossing his lips. His face seems to glow in comparison to the heavy atmosphere surrounding them only moments ago. "But the only one who could teach me is Chef, and he's…"
"That's okay!" The man replies. "I know where we need to go! There's someone who owes me a favor, and this'll be it."
"Why would you go that far?"
"I told you, right? I hate what the Grand Wizard is doing. Someone has to stop him. And I could tell from the second I saw you that you're that someone." Sticking out his hand, he smiles. "The name's Stanley Marsh, though I feel stupid for only mentioning it now. You can call me Stan." Kyle only pauses for a moment, before taking his hand
"Kyle Broflovski."
"Nice to meet you Kyle! For now, let's get some rest. Tomorrow we'll start out. The person I'm talking about lives pretty far away, so you'll need your strength."
"Right," Kyle replies, laying down as the last of the sunlight disappears from the horizon. Closing his eyes, he can't help but shiver at the memories of the past day. Seeing this, Stan shifts, and Kyle can feel a warm hand covering his own. Opening his eyes and glancing at the man, Stan flashes him a grin.
"Trust me when I say this, Kyle. We'll defeat him. We'll win. You'll avenge your family and your friends and your village, okay? So you just need to calm down and rest easy until then. After all, good always wins in the end, right?"
After a moment, Kyle responds with a small nod. Closing his eyes, he can feel himself nodding off, the warmth over his own hand unmoving. And as he slips into sleep, Kyle doesn't shiver again.