Callum is dreaming again, and his thoughts are not his own.
He stands on a cliff, striding across the wet grass towards the clifftop.
He knows he has a mission to complete, and though his heart is tight with grief at what must happen in these next few moments, he will do it.
Humanity must rise to stand beside the elves, not remain beneath them.
Magic is their right too.
Callum takes a breath, steadying himself.
It is a beautiful night, the full moon rising high above a glimmering sea, the wind gusting gently past. It's early autumn and the air is cool but not the cold of winter just yet.
There is a horned figure standing at the top of the cliff, head tilted back, watching the stars. Their dark cloak swirls lightly in the wind, moonlight glancing off silver-capped horns.
Callum's heart clenches in his chest.
He can do this, he will, he must.
"Ah, you're here early tonight, apprentice," his teacher says.
"Not that early," Callum says lightly, "watching the stars again?"
"You can learn much from them," his teacher says, smiling faintly. "How was your journey?"
"Informative," Callum answers.
"You'll have to tell me about it," his teacher says, turning to him. "You've grown taller."
"Only by a few inches," Callum says. "I won't be as tall as you."
"No, I do not think so," his teacher says, and his golden eyes are fond, warm as he looks at Callum.
Callum is sure that he sees the hint of a frown flicker across the elf's face and makes his move. He won't let sentiment stop him.
In every war there are sacrifices, and though it may break his own heart to do this, he will.
He embraces his teacher, praying that he does not cry and break his resolve.
He will do this, he must.
His teacher laughs quietly, "Ever the affectionate one, aren't we?"
Slender arms returns the embrace and part of Callum wants to wail, wants so badly to stop the course he has set himself upon. But he cannot, he will not.
He withdraws the pincer of a soul worm from his sleeve, snaps it between his fingertips and whispers,
"rats a fo traeh siht ekaT."
His teacher crumples, and Callum lays him down on the grass, and focusing on his magic, pulls free the power he needs, repeating the incantation.
The elf screams, back arching in terrible, grievous pain.
And part of Callum is screaming too, crying out in horror, but he shoves it away, smothers it.
Sacrifices must be made.
Magic is part of elves, to take it from them is to kill them.
Sacrifices must be made.
His teacher's screams seem to rip the night apart, but become weaker and weaker as starlight gathers into Callum's hands.
"I am sorry," Callum says as his teacher goes still, blood trickling from pale lips, breathing a wet rasp that rattles in his throat, eyes wide, staring up at him.
Callum stands, clutching the heart of a star, and flees.
A/N: So...that happened. Um, yeah. More backstory building ahead.
Poor Callum. That's a nightmare that's coming back for sure.
As a side note, I'm not too familiar with the translation for that poem we saw relating to Aaravos yet. And I'm not sure if it's entirely going to be used in this verse' either.
Edit: because I've gotten a few reviews that were a bit confused on what happened here; this is more or less the first instance of dark magic being performed by a human, i.e. Elarion, in this case against Aaravos.
Callum is unlucky enough to be able to see this event in his dreams.