Keltoi

"Kel, put down that fucking knife and concentrate for once, would you?"

Tayler's hands went to her hips, her robes making a whoosh as she pressed air out of one of the many folds the garments made as they fell from her small frame. Expressed on her face was the annoyance and slight humour that carried in her tone, a telltale smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. I twirled the weapon in my hands a few times more, the glowing moonlight reflecting off of the blade that was almost as long as my forearm.

"It's a dagger, Tay, not a knife. Knives are for butchers and cooks, a dagger is for someone who knows how to use it." I examined the blade some more, looking over each inch of the hand crafted object. I had made it myself, quite obviously, the blade curving uneven at the probably counterproductive jagged point and the hilt being held together by toughened strips of leather. It wasn't much, but it was from my own hand, and such I felt a particular fondness towards it, something like pride.

"And like you know how to use it. Keltoi, seriously, we're mages, not cutthroat bandits like the peasants, start acting like it."

"Well, maybe you're a mage, but it's quite clear that I am not cut out for that lifestyle," I shot back, digging the blade into the grass at my feet. The bile tasted foul in my mouth as I once again lamented about how the one hereditary trait that is the key to being accepted and excelling in Blood Elf culture and social standings had manifested solely in my twin sister, leaving me with what the others saw as a 'quirky' and 'mildly disturbing' fascination with the arts of stealth.

"You are, though," Tayler said, "You're royalty, you have the royal magic inside you somewhere, I can feel it, and I can see it when we train. You just haven't grown into it yet, which is the entire point of these damn lessons that you spend most of which playing with that stupid fucking toy." Angrily she gestured to the upended dagger in the dirt, and the grass around it ignited. Surprised by the sudden flames, I recoiled, and they extinguished almost instantly, Tayler cursing in equal surprise. I levelled my eyes at her.

"Careful there, hothead," I said with a sly grin. She groaned, and stalked over to slap me over the head, forcefully.

"That was terrible. Now can we get on with this? Our Casting is only a few weeks away and we can't waste any more time. Now, how about we try again with the fireball?" She grabbed my wrists and flipped them so my palms were facing each other, my fingers held loosely apart, like I was holding a large orb in my hands. Once she was satisfied that my hands were once again in the right position, and free from the dagger, she released her grip, and took a step back. "You know what to do," she said.

And I did. How could I not, honestly. It had been drilled into us nearly every day for over half our lives at the Magicians' Academy, and even at home with our over bearing parents. It was a reminder, every day, that I could not and would never be like the others, and I struggled with each and every trial they gave us to perform. Tayler, however, was a prodigy. Her magic was flawless, beautiful, and she could control it and contort it effortlessly. For that, our father loved her, adored her, placed her on a pedestal and groomed her for our positions of high standing and power more than he ever would with me. That was another difference between my twin and I; while she couldn't wait to be in that position, I felt sick at the mere thought of it.

When it first became apparent to me, and quite possibly everyone else, that I held no magic of any normal regard, it was brushed off as a late bloomer kind of deal. But as the years went on, it became harder and harder for me to produce anything along the sort of acceptable magic, and Tayler, being the supportive sister she is, put in extra effort to help me along, sometimes even simultaneously performing bother her trial and mine, while I fumbled about with the air and made it look like I was concentrating.

But with each passing day, my lack of magic became more and more apparent, and so did the utter disappointment of my parents. Magic is a social must in Blood Elven society – it's a part of who we are as a people and anything less is not tolerated. Someone without magic is treated like a dead end in the evolution of our species, of our race, and is either banished, or, the more likely option, executed by beheading. Anyone whose magic deviates from the offensive/passive useful categories that are enforced by the noble blooded houses suffers the same fate. Deviation and difference is not something to be proud of in our culture, which is why Tayler insists so strongly that we do these midnight secret lessons, so that I may come into my 'sleeping potential' and put myself back on the right track. Even if I knew deep inside of me that it was futile.

"Clear the mind…" I muttered, "Focus on the action… Relax and let the energy flow… Shape the energy and give it life…" It was almost a cultish mantra, the way they droned it in the giant halls of the Academy, echoing almost ominously around, reverberating within each and every one of our skulls. Regardless of my own pessimistic view of these actions, I attempted every night when we practiced, if not for my own safety, but for Tayler's peace of mind. She didn't have to help me, she could have watched me fall further and further behind and deeper into despair and rejoiced when I was held accountable for my shortcomings. But she helped anyway. She took time out of her day to help me try and beat the bad hand I'd been dealt, and gave all her energy into hiding this horrible truth from everyone she could, even though it was starting to become rather obvious. There were times when her unwavering faith and optimism that I would master the magic I had made me believe it too. She gave me hope.

Closing my eyes, I placed all of my energy and focus into igniting the space between my hands. I visualised the air burning, a small sphere at first, but the expanding to fill the void. I imagined the heart the naked flames would give off, how it would feel against my skin and my robed body. I continued to practice this vivid visualisation for a long while, but as each minute ticked on, my hope that tonight would be the night I succeeded began to diminish. The shame of being such a failure hit me again then, like a terrible cold wave. I wanted to disappear, I didn't want anyone to look upon my face, as if doing so would pass on this deadly curse I had. I could feel the icy coldness spread from my chest to the rest of my body.

"Keltoi…" Tayler warned, "No parlour tricks. If you can reach your magic like that, you can manipulate it to your will, you have to have control. No tricks, just fire." But she was wrong. I had no control over whatever kind of magic was actually inside of me. Every instructor and every other Highborn, Lowborn, peasant child, anyone who practiced any magic told me it was a warming, comfortable sensation. Mine, mine was chilling and frightening. And when I began to overwhelm me like it was doing now…

"Keltoi!" Tayler lashed out and grabbed my wrist again, and slapped my face to break my concentration. My eyes, which had been so forcefully held shut, sprung open, and light seared my eyes. How though, I thought, it was the middle of the night… As the patchy light began to fade from my vision, my hands seemed to materialise through it. The void between my hands was still empty, nothing but air occupying the space.

"It's no use, Tay," I said, defeated. I slumped into a sitting position, my legs crossed. "I'm not like you, or our parents, or any other damn Blood Elf. I'm a dead end."

Silence fell on us for a very long time, only the sound of the slight wind in the trees behind the run down shack we used as a landmark. Tayler broke the seemingly endless silence some time later.

"I'm not giving up on you. You'll get there. I'm not going to watch my big brother be reduced to nothing because of a bunch of rules, because of what you can and can't do. I will never give up on helping you."

Weeks passed and nothing changed. Every time Tayler tried to instruct me through the motions and help coax my traditional Blood Elven magic out from its hiding place, all I got was the sheer coldness and the blinding light. At first I thought it could be some twisted form of magic, that I was indeed to opposite of every value we held, but the more I pondered it, the more I convinced myself it was just the peak of my fear for the future. For my future, and Tayler's. And as I stood next to Tayler, wearing our ceremonious, royal family robes, the feeling was pretty much the same.

Our Casting was upon us.

The Casting was a ceremony that all Highblood heirs would endure when they come of age, and are ready to be inducted into their respective family's position of power. In the Great Chamber of the city's Central Hall, in front of the other noble and royal houses, and a sweeping crowd of the common Blood Elf population, one would stand on a lowered platform, around which the crowd would stand. In the centre of the platform sat a small column, on which sat the crown or brooch or symbol of that particular person, made especially for them as their own rune or symbol to adopt, a visual representation of who they are. Beside this, on the outer edged of the rounded, lowered area, were two more columns, but these were adorned with crystals, ones which would act as a conduit for magic. An inductee then had to pull the magic from the crystals, while manipulating the pure energy into their own magic, and imbue the centrepiece with it. It acted as a symbol and a pledge of power and allegiance to their people, and was a highly difficult feat. Failing was seen as the highest of insults, and had been rumoured to be linked with treason.

"Bullshit," I had said when they told us during a lesson in the Academy. But I had been silenced with stern looks and disapproving grunts.

Tayler and I stood side by side in our matching royal blue, gold and crimson robes, looking down the stairs that would lead us to the place where we would publically display our magic and pledge our loyalty and willingness to protect the people of our lands. Tayler was buzzing with excitement, her grin getting wider and wider as more people filled the galleries above us, and the floor beneath us. We stood on a raised podium of sorts, used for delivering sermons and speeches and was generally used by the more powerful in meetings of councils. In the middle of this section sat two throne-like chairs. In one, my father sat. And the other, my mother took her place. We stood to the side of them, slightly in front, so as to not block any kind of view of them or the people. Behind the thrones was the wall, but a magnificent jewelled mosaic mural adorned it. The light that shone through the large glass window on the roof made the mural sparkle with life, and when it did, you couldn't see the light stone behind it. Bannisters and railings edged the area, so as to stop people falling off and/or climbing up, potential safety hazards of course.

I shifted uncomfortably on my feet, trying to distract myself from the eyes of the crowd and the very real possibility of being led out of the building in chains. Or in pieces. I glanced over at Tayler to find her staring at me, a sympathetic, almost sad expression on her face. She reached out her hand and took mine in an effort to soothe us both. Silence fell across the large room as our father strode forward.

He was a tall, thin man, with long black hair like ours, and his beard was plaited tightly, the ends bouncing against his bellybutton. He held himself high, pushing his shoulders back and arching his chin upwards, making himself look taller. He demanded attention and respect with only the way he walked, and if that wasn't enough, his piercing eyes that glowed with his furious magic would draw it from those his demeanour had no effect on. He was a very intimidating man, our father, no doubt. He held up has hand, as if asking for even more silence, before beginning.

"My friends, esteemed members of the noble houses, those of the general public, I welcome you here today to this prestigious Hall as we witness the induction of my two children into their respective positions within our House. After today, not only will they be true members of the nobility of the Blood Elves, but they will also be sworn protectors of our way of life, and shall uphold the values and laws of our people." He paused, surveying the crowd. People nodded and smiled and couldn't decide whether to look at him, or ogle us as we stood to his side.

"The Casting is an important ceremony within our culture, as I'm sure you know. It solidifies and inductee's place as a Blood Elf, as a Blood Elf of royal and Highblood. There is no greater way to show devotion and dedication to us as a people and our way of life. Once complete, my children here today will truly be a part of our history, and who we are and who we will continue to be into the future." The crowds nodded and murmured in agreement, and a light applause made its way around the room. He pivoted on his heel, and turned to walk towards us. His eyes flickered over the two of his children standing before him in the robes of our House. He glanced at Tayler, and pride, happiness and confidence filled his face, before he turned to me. His eyes went cold, dull. Some form of resignation registered on his face and was that… concern? It was gone before I could think about it. "Make me proud," he whispered, his eyes now back on Tayler. He moved back to his seat before announcing, "We will start with my daughter, Tayler."

I squeezed Tayler's hand in encouragement she probably didn't need as she began her way down the stairs. Excited whispers rose from the crowd, amplified by the echo the room allowed. On the middle column sat an amulet, in the shape of a roaring dragon head, a symbol of power, ferocity, purity and stared at it for a moment before smiling at it. The columns next to her began to glow with the pure magical energy, and she raised her hands, palms facing outward toward the two crystals.

I could feel the magic crackle in the air as she fought with it, trying to draw it from the cages it was placed it, from the conduits that so strongly hold onto any kind of magic. Her body was tense and rigid as she fought this way and that. The white glow in the crystals flickered and moved with her, and over tie she began to gain control over it. Her actions became more relaxed and fluid, like she was waving her limbs through water, and the pure energy followed suit.

Gasps came from the crowds soon after, before cheers. A bright orange had begun to form within the white as Tayler used her own magic, her own mastery of fire to convert it into her own. Once the conversion had started it didn't take long for the white to be eradicated and large, vibrant orange flames came shotting out of the crystal, converging overhead in a tightly compacted ball of heat. Pride swelled in my chest for my sister as she brought the purest form of her fire magic down and forced it into the amulet.

But the joy was short lived for me. As Tayler joined us again on the platform, the fear settled over me once again. My own turn grew near.

"I would like to congratulate my daughter," my father spoke again as Tayler took her spot next to me again, "on her success in showing her strength, determination and loyalty to our way of life. I am confident that she will prove a valuable asset to the Blood Elves in the development of our future." Another round of applause. He held his hand up again for silence, before continuing on. "Now, it is my firstborns' turn. Keltoi, please proceed." I couldn't help but notice the reluctance and restriction in his voice, not nearly as cheerful as when he sent Tayler down there. Not that I could blame him. After all, I was the one without magic, I was the wrong one here.

The walk down to the columns was one of the longest I'd taken in memory. Every muscle in my body and every instinct I had told me, screamed at me, to run and take my chances, because if I stayed here and showed my talentless self in this prestigious ceremony, I would have zero chance of anything ever happening again. The fear began to lock my legs in place but I had to keep going. My breath came short and I was suddenly hyper aware of every pair of eyes staring directly at me, expecting the same greatness my younger sister had shown.

I don't remember making it all the way to the column, but one moment I was halfway down the stairs and the next I was holding a pair of beautiful leather gauntlets. They were laced with a white gold pattern, and their craftsmanship was amazing. I had only read about such works of armour, and now this was my symbol, my identifier to others. A pair of gauntlets, a piece of armour that protects the hands and wrists, the most vital part needed to fight back. To protect.

I looked back over my shoulder, my eyes meeting with my father's. He stared back at me, and even from this distance I could see how his face dropped, how tired his eyes were and how resigned he looked. I knew he knew I had no chance, he had made it clear throughout my training, or rather lack of training, of how disappointed he was in me, how much of a failure I would be seen as if I couldn't fit in. At first he had tried hiding it, denying it at all, that I was indeed just a late bloomer and I would eventually develop the talents I inherited from him and his blood, that I would be just as powerful and influential as he, but it wore on him, and eventually he stopped playing the naïve role and I knew, I just knew that he would follow the values and laws of the Blood Elven culture when I fucked up today.

Yet he still had enough of a shred of hope for me that he still saw me in a position to protect and support the people.

Turning back around, I placed the gauntlets back on the column where I had taken them from. My breath still came short and my heart was pounding so hard in my chest that I felt like it was rocking my entire body back and forth. As I subconsciously slipped into a comfortable standing position – legs about shoulder width apart, slightly bent, shoulders down – a numbness spread across my body, wiping away the fear and anxiety, masking it completely. I outstretched my arms, one towards each crystal. My fingers tingled as the raw energy brushed against my skin. I could feel the potential power in it, the power that could be mine.

The familiar cold, emptiness opened up in my gut once again as I attempted to 'reach' for my magic, as every tutor, including my sister, had put it. I shut my eyes against the glaring of the crowds' eyes and the strain of trying to grasp something impossible. I visualised the white energy leaving the crystals and morphing into something else. I tried every visualisation scenario I thought could be possible, while pouring my concentration and energy into trying to control this wild, pure force and manipulate it to my will. I could feel beads of sweat begin to form at the base of my black hair, along my forehead.

The longer I stayed there, the deeper the feeling of nothingness and cold ran. The longer I stood between the two crystals, the more murmurs and whispers rose of the crowd. The longer I stood there in that position with nothing happening, the more the urge to run and disappear grew inside. I itched to get away from the humiliation and I nearly broke my concentration entertaining the idea of a life free from the rules of this society. But no, I'd either surprise everyone and win this internal struggle, or I'd fail, like everyone expected, and by tomorrow I'd be dead. I didn't give up though, harbouring the childish thought that if enough effort was made, an exception to the unspoken laws would be granted and everything would be fine.

Guilt suddenly clouded every thought I had. If I hadn't spent so much time obsessing over the arts of thievery and deception, maybe then I would have developed. My interests did this to me, subconsciously blocked out my magic and now I was to pay for deviating from the social norm. I had done this to myself and no one else was to blame.

"Enough." My father's voice rang out clear and shattered the haze of concentration and thoughts that hung over my head. The whispers and murmurs had grown far louder now, and there was a mix of reactions to my obvious failure. Many people looked on sympathetically, knowing the coming consequences for my inability. Others scowled at me, as if I had personally offended them by not being able to perform what everyone else seemed to be able to do. But it wasn't that that drove ice into my heart, it was the tone of my father's voice. Anger, sadness, horror. The thing I'd feared most was coming fast, and I had no way out.

"You've failed." The sentence rang out as the crowd hushed again. "You've failed to perform your Casting, failed to show any potential that you can offer. " My father stared down at me, his gaze locking onto mine, freezing me in place. "You have shown no talent in magic and little interest in our culture your entire life. You are nothing but a placeholder, Keltoi, a major disappointment and a blemish on our family." His voice slowly rose as his anger and mortification did, and his words became venomous and hurtful. "You have given proof that you cannot offer anything to our cause, and that you will never be acceptable in any aspect of Blood Elven life." His lips curled into a snarl. "You've desecrated the name of my house, and poisoned the blood that runs through our veins."

He waved his long, thin hands and the energy in the crystals ignited, leaping from their cages at me, the untamed energy burning as it made contact. I cried out in surprise and horror, the white light filling my vision as the pain seared. The robes I wore burned easily, the energy disintegrating them.

"You do not deserve to wear my colours!" my father roared. I saw Tayler through the blinding light of the raw magic, clinging to his side and batting at him, screeching for him to stop.

"Father, stop it! Stop this instant you're hurting him!" She glared at the man, and realising he wasn't going to listen to her, waved her own hands and extinguished the flames, the white magic dissolving into nothingness. I crumpled to the ground, the remaining threads of the robes draping off of me, clinging to the leather clothes I wore underneath. Clouds of ash and smoke fell around me and collected on the ground in a grey blanket. Miraculously, as I looked over myself, the only injuries I sustained were on my hands, the skin badly burned where I'd tried to bat out the flames, but nothing a healing salve could fix. While thrashing about I must have knocked the gauntlets off the column, because they sat on the ground, like they'd be tossed at me, next to my feet. Painfully, I pulled them on. Might as well make some use of them while I still could.

"How can you even do this to him? How can you think this is right, father?" Tayler was still arguing, distracting him from doing anything else to me. I loved her for protecting me, but this was an inevitability. Even she must know that. A Blood Elf that fails the fundamental basis of our species has no right to live on and make a name in society.

"He failed, proved himself useless."

"But he's not! He can do other things."

"Tayler, this is not up for discussion, you know the laws."

"You can't do this I won't let you!" Her voiced cracked.

"He's nothing."

"He's your son." I pulled myself to my feet as he turned to me.

"He is not my son."

Finally, there it was. The words that I knew would seal my fate. The emptiness and cold returned to my chest and anger joined them this time, constricting my lungs and clouding my vision. My dagger, which was always strapped to my thigh, became a sudden dead weight on my leg, and it itched. I knew I shouldn't, but what was the point in holding back now, when I was going to end up in the same place anyway?

"Guards, take him to a holding cell and prepare him for his execution tomorrow. There is no place here for people like you, Keltoi."

"Why not just fucking kill me now, father," I jeered.

"Keltoi, shut the fuck up you moron," Tayler protested, an exasperated look on her face.

"How about I give you reason to, huh?" In the blink of an eye, I tore the dagger from its makeshift sheathe and threw it. The blade soared through the air and dug itself deep into the railing next to my father. Cries and shouts erupted from the crowd as they processed my failed attack on my father. I didn't care. Years and years of disapproval and disgust and being beat down by him and everyone else left me numb to their objections and fear. "Kill me already, I know you want to, you royal fuck."

Guards had already appeared around the room, their stances ready to fight, already casting the beginnings of powerful fireballs. Tayler continued to protest, but her cries fell on deaf ears.

"Guards," my father said for the second time, "Kill the deviant."

Everything seemed to slow then. The mage guards released their spells, the balls of certain death shooting towards me, but my reflexes were faster. I dodged around, skipped over and dived under the oncoming slew of magic, each fireball hitting the ground next to me, or where I was moments before. I weaved in and out of the guards, making my way up the stairs towards Tayler and my family. But I wasn't there for them.

Despite the onslaught of fire around me, the cold hollowness inside was all I could feel, numbing me to anything surrounding me, sharpening my focus on my goal. The crowd screamed and fled, a slow trickle out the main doors. Those further in took cover and cowered, hoping that a stray spell wouldn't hit and kill them. I danced over the bannister and leapt towards my buried blade, yanking it from deep within, the wood splintering as I freed it. I balanced on the balls of my feet on the thin barrier, locking eyes with my father. His rage, humiliation and utter hatred was evident now, everything he had ever felt against me my entire life now showed on his face, and it contorted his usual regal expression into something sinister and terrifying. I then looked to Tayler.

Her face was pale, the angst and terror on her face quite apparent. Tears streaked down her face and her hands wobbled. She drew a shuddering breath as we made eye contact. She shook her head lightly, a pleading look in her eyes. But it was gone in a flash and replaced with fear. She opened her mouth to say something but was too late.

The fireball slammed into my back, throwing me off the perch I had made. I slammed into one of the intricate thrones and flipped over it, colliding with the wall and sliding under the rail, plummeting to the ground. The numerous impacts took the breath from my lungs, but there was little pain, just an empty void, and slight heat on my back. I quickly tried to get to my feet and make a break for the door, but the crowd, while significantly thinned out, was still blocking my way, so I only made it so far before another spell exploded on my side, throwing me into a thick column.

This time, I felt everything. My body shook from the impact and my bones ached. I was sure at least one rib was broken, but I couldn't be sure. I guards running towards me and I could feel the heat of their fires from across the room. This was it. I closed my eyes and waited for it to all be over…

"Stop! No!"

The familiar whoosh of flowing robes reached my ears and a slight wave of air rolled over me. I cracked open one of my eyes to see Tayler standing over me, with her arms out protectively, facing the numerous guards that had been ordered to kill.

"Lady Tayler, we need you to step aside so we can deal with this. We're on your father's orders." One of the guards spoke for them all, and they never broke their concentration, like good little students.

"No," Tayler said, "What you need to do is to listen to me. To get to my brother, you'll have to go through me. And as of now, I am in a much higher standing than 'Lady', and far more powerful than the likes of you peasant scum. So you need to back the fuck off, and step back, before you piss me off anymore."

"Father's going to hate you for doing this," I grunted.

"He can hate me all he wants, but he needs me. He knows it." She turned her head to the side so she could look at me. "You need to leave, Keltoi. You know I've never approved of your ghost-y antics and parlour tricks but you need to leave and that's the only way you can with your life."

"What ghost-y antics? What are you talking about?" I was genuinely confused.

"I'll explain in detail later but your magic is different, that much is obvious. Instead of an outward projection it's a personal internal magic. You need to let it out, and stop fighting it."

"I need to disappear, that's what I need to do, Tay, and that's impossible."

"Not for you, Kel. Disappear, I know you can."

The cold emptiness had been building for some time now, almost crushing me from this inside, and it was beginning to become uncomfortable. I needed to disappear, but how? I couldn't just click my fingers and, poof, I'm gone. So I made a hazardous and last ditch effort to save myself. I took a deep breath, dug deep into the cold void and willed myself gone.

The cold exploded through my body and a bright white light blinded me.

There were screams. There were cries. There were looks of utter confusion. The guards extinguished their fires, looking left and right, high and low. A few people scratched their head.

"Where… where'd he go?"

Tayler smiled and lowered her arms, her defensive stance disappearing. She shrugged.

"He's different, powerful. Just not as you think." I looked down at myself, and could only vaguely make out my hands. They were see through, completely translucent and damn near …

Invisible.

No one could see me, I'd finally found a way to disappear for good. I couldn't help myself.

I laughed. I laughed and laughed loudly.

"He's still here!" The guards went back to the offensive, and continued searching, even though I hadn't moved.

"I want him killed," my father growled.

"Kel, you need to go, now. Just fucking run okay, don't look back and don't worry about me just fucking go!" Tayler gestured towards the door violently. I nodded, forgetting she couldn't see me, before standing and leaning close.

"I'll meet you at the shack," I whispered, and wiped away the tear that fell from her eye. She nodded weakly, knowing that that was the only place we could meet again, the only place only we knew about.

"If you're still here, you good for nothing traitor," our father called out, "know this: You are hereby BANISHED from this land and those under my rule. If you ever, EVER step foot in in these lands again, you will be killed on sight, you hear me? Never, EVER, come back!"

I didn't answer as I made my way swiftly to the door. I didn't care. Because I'd already made a promise to myself.

The only reason I would ever return into the hell that I was now escaping was to put a dagger through his heart.

A/N: This story is going to be a collection of different perspectives from central characters, written by myself and my bf Marc. I will be writing Keltoi chapters, and later on 'Xavian' and 'Azllyn' chapters, and he will be doing his chapters from the perspective of Tayler and Marcusne, and then later on, 'Klaryssa' and eventually 'Larzane'. We are rping these characters as we play WoW in our little group and thought to give our characters life. It will be long and filled with lots of different things so yeah hopefully will be very interesting for you.

Note: we are making up a little lore for our stories to make sense, but for the most part are trying to stick to the written WoW lore.