[Rabbitnote:] I will rework the whole story while I hopefully finish 'His shattered grace' the next weeks. Here is the first chapter revisited.
A story can start with a single breath, in the arms of a lover, it can start in a moment of strength. A moment of weakness. A death- a birth.
We tell ourselves we write our own stories. Some are epic voyages, some are bloody battles. Some stories will never be told, and a few will be heard throughout the ages.
Alyn Velx never had the feeling he could write his own story. Instead, he read others. Trying to get by a world that was harsh and cruel.
Alyn's story starts precisely on a day that was not so special all in all, for anyone.
There was no arrival, no mysterious stranger. All there had been was a father throwing open a door.
Alyn remembered the times his father visited him in his scarce chamber. Often the small light of a candle was burning. The candle was the only bright anchor in the darkness. It showed dancing dust particles. It flickered and whispered of shadows.
He remembered everything. Even though he wished to forget often in his later life.
The liveliest memory of Leon Velx setting foot in the small room he locked his son in would be a memory of many things, on THAT one day. It was the memory of how he lost his home. It was a memory of a child that was nothing but waiting for love. It was the memory of a too small and shaking boy. It was the memory of when he lost a part of himself. A fragment of his soul, deciding to give it away, not completely willingly. Like a shared heart, hoping to be held tender in stranger's hands.
He had often felt his father watching him, listening on the other side of his door. He wasn't malicious, but the way he stood, motionless and lost in thought, had held something threatening. Alyn's father had always something bitter around him, something dark and desperate. He looked at his firstborn son, his eldest, whom he shared the Velx blood with. The blood laced with the ability to feel. Feel every aspect of the other's soul, how he felt, and how he wished not to feel. These emotions were like strings weaving a fine tapestry. Laced . They were chains linked. The Velx were Links, links stretching into human hearts. It was giving and taking, almost like an exchange.
Manipulators, they had been called. Traitors, turncloaks, history had made them.
House Velx was long past its prime, small and meaningless. His mother had died while giving birth to his little sister. He had been too young to even remember her voice, but he remembered her love. The warm, steady pulse that she had radiated whenever he was close, an aura of happiness. Without her, his family had grown even smaller.
There was Zella, his little sister, slightly chubby, ribbons in her hair and gazing at him with the adoring eyes of a little girl in love with the stars.
There was his uncle Theron, grey flecked beard. Soft spoken, gentle hands that tugged him in bed sometimes when he cried and felt like his head would explode.
And of course, there was his father.
They shared blood as same as the fine brown hair, curling slightly. Not dark brown, not chestnut, but something in between, depending on the light that shone on it.
They had the same green eyes, the green of an empty wine bottle, sparking and instense.
Normally there was disgust and disappointment burning in his fathers eyes. Even as a so small creature, the notion wasn't lost to Alyn.
When he unlocked the door and let bright daylight scorch the small chamber this time, there was something else as well. It was an expectation.
"Comb your hair and wash your face." Leon Velx said. His shadow fell over Alyn. The boy was blinking into the bright light, eyes narrowed.
"Where are we going?" Alyn asked. His father seldom let him out. Sometimes he played in the yard, between brick walls. The manor was hidden from sight through the wide emptiness of hills. There was no one that remembered the Velx enough to care.
"Do as I say." Leon Velx just answered, his voice flat. "We depart soon."
Walking through the Manor after being in the darkness of the chamber always felt a little like sleepwalking to Alyn. The long corridors made of slowly rotting wood. The smell stung a little on some spots in the walls. He had heard someone once saying the rats came to Rainport Manor to die.
Maybe it was them rotting between the pipes.
Cleaning up, that was the order. Washing the dirt from his face.
He looked down on his stained shirt, the holes in his sleeve.
His small shaking hands, unsure what to do.
His uncle came to his rescue, a hand gentle guiding, combing hair and peeeling him out of clothes so crumbled the crinkles were like little waves in the fabric.
The clothes he changed into were in a remarkably better condition than the old faded cloth he wore now. Still faded, the jacket had once been green and black. It was too short on his arms, even for such a small child as himself.
It was the first and last time clothing would ever be too small. For the rest of his life, he would grow so gaunt, stay so scrawny, every piece of fine silk or scratching wool would hang loose on his frame.
"I don't want to go." the boy had whispered as soon as his father returned. His eyes were inspecting his attire, his face, his small hands still shaking. He didn't like what he saw. He was nervous, disappointing, lurking. Alyn could feel it, extending his mind as it often happened whenever he was afraid or especially sensible. He searched, tried to make sense, but he couldn't control it completely. His uncle said he was talented. That he was compassionate and open, and that he cared. All Alyn knew was that he couldn't escape the grip of the other feelings around him.
"You will." Leon Velx promised. He frowned, nervous and waiting.
Then his big hand closed around Alyn's small wrist. With a big pull the little boy was forced to follow. He didn't try to fight back.
Not this time.
One time his uncle had attempted to take him on a trip. As soon as they had reached a road, as soon as other people were remotely in reach, Alyn had started to beg. Beg to make it stop. To return home. He couldn't hold still, twitching and shaking in his seat. Since then, even at home, sometimes, his head hurt so much from using his ability, from knowing exactly how other people felt, it seemed to explode.
A six-year-old boy, locked in darkness and sobbing quietly.
Since then, when things went extremely bad, there had been a syringe that made him feel himself.
Alyn remembered the syringe and the yellow liquid well.
The needle had stung and hurt the first times it had pierced his skin. But the effect was as poisonous for his little body as it was healing for his head.
The rush of nothingness, of being devoid of any feelings. The slightest bit of himself, not the nervousness. Not the fear.
It was relaxing and it was necessary.
Medicine, his uncle whispered with pity.
Drugs, his father sneered and shrugged.
A seven-year-old child doesn't know the impact of this word. Medicine, on the other side, that is something he knew. Healing and helping, medicine, that was good, wasn't it?
This time, as his father dragged him out of the house, there was no syringe.
No medicine.
First Rainport Manor disappeared, getting smaller with every look from the back seat.
Then Corvium passed in the distance.
Woods and cities, water roaring in a river.
All along the road, he begged and pleaded, until he sat silent. And fell asleep.
He only woke up when they reached the capital.
That first dim impression of a city. The first blinking of a tired child. It was so vastly different from his home. Nothing he had read or imagined was as impressive as this city.
He remembered how overwhelmed he had been. So many people. So many colors. Too many feelings.
The floors of the palace were very different from those at home.
It was bright and clear. And the air was filled with the brim of some sort of flowery perfumes, biting each other.
Everything in this place was wrong, upside down. Sending his head spinning.
His father hadn't turned as Alyn forced himself to stay close to him instead of just running away, hiding behind a rich colored curtain. It was blatantly clear how poor they were in contrast to even those curtains. Their clothes looked used and the way people eyed his father was confusing Alyn.
Brushing along his mind, he felt all their minds singing to him.
Some sang praise. Some sang sorrow. Some dripped of venom and hissed at him.
This one was worried but didn't show it.
That one was happy. Her friend was jealous, venomous behind her smile.
If they don't stop, he thought. I will explode. His seven year old mind could not comprehend the burden.
Anger, joy, jealousy, greed, sadness...
His father was holding his wrist again. But less hard. The force he displayed was all focused on keeping his face straight. Of not letting any emotion show.
People say we are worthless, Leon Velx had once hissed. They will learn and see.
"Can we go home?" Alyn whispered, daring to tug a little on the grip his father was holding. "Why are we waiting? I don't like it here."
"Shh." was the sharp hissed answer. Not even one glance.
„Lord Velx. Such a pleasure to meet you again. It has been far too long." A man had appeared in front of them. Alyn forced himself to look at him. He was bony, thin, and the way he eyed his fahter was curious.
But it didn't fit the friendly greeting at all. Lies, Alyn thought. It was there and then for the first time he realized what friendly lies taste like.
How they brushed over him. Sweet fruits turning foul. Words hiding intent.
He felt some kind of strange relief in the man as his dark eyes met Alyns.
„That must be your son." he just said. But Alyn felt he wanted to say far more.
„Indeed. My son, Alyn." Keep your back straight, don't look down. All that had his father and uncle told him. He couldn't obey the lessons. Instead, he hunched over, half hiding behind his father's leg like a much younger child would have.
„Follow me, if you would be so kind." the stranger said.
He didn't understand why it was so important for his father to please this man. The hand that guided him pulled again. Alyn stayed close. He followed through hallways, felt the brushing whisper of minds. Saw the rich colors of clothes so fine and bright they may have reminded him of exotic birds.
If he had not been afraid he may have seen more. But so he trotted along, and couldn't look too long before a headache started again. And the heart in his chest fluttered with happiness or grief that wasn't his fast. Alyn felt them flash through himself.
You need to push it back. You need to stay focused.
His uncle had taught him how to breathe, how to think, whenever his ability was close to overwhelming him.
Steady breathing, in, out. You can do it, Alyn. Looking around, he wished his uncle had been here. He always knew what to do.
The breathing helped. It helped him to stay on his feet, following the stranger and his father.
One foot in front of the other, but steady. Do it, Alyn, you can do it.
"You'll learn, " his uncle had promised him."We are all that is left of house Velx . We are a story long forgotten. But you, Alyn Velx, are the future. Make it a bright one."
His father held nothing on those lessons. When he came to Alyn's doorstep and unlocked it, there were lessons of another kind.
Leon Velx was a Link, just as Alyn, but he detested humans too much to understand what they were feeling. Nor did he care. All he cared for, was fortune, fame, trying to restore the house.
As Alyn Velx would learn in his later years, his father was a lousy player of the game. One that had ste foot in so wrong few people acknowledged his existence. With few allys.
Which was the reason he was so eager now. He was trying to impress.
Focusfocusfocusfocus.
He felt his insides twisting.
That one there wanted to impress. The other wanted to fight him.
„Alyn." his fathers stern voice made him look up. Into deep green eyes, like his, surrounded by wrinkles and sorrow. He felt how nervous his father was. It didn't help him calm down." Keep it together."
Keep it together. In retrospect Alyn laughed at the effort his seven-year-old self-had made, standing straight, head up, face made of stone, though the tears stung in his eyes.
It was then that his father had left him alone in the room, and Alyn felt uneasy and distressed.
„You just soothe him. Don't do anything else.„ His father had said to him. "Your uncle might tell you tales of miracles and healing, but this is far too important to ruin it. Do you understand?"
„Who?"Alyn asked.
„That doesn't matter." another distressed sigh. For all his life, and the short time his son and he spend together, Leon Velx would view Alyn as an asset and as a burden. Even as a child, Alyn had sensed that. It had made him question himself, had made him sad. He was a pain, and his father wanted to get rid of the pain. "Do you understand?"
He would do anything to ease his mind.
"Just do what I tell you, be a good boy."
Alyn was a good boy, was he not? He knew he wanted to be.
"Yes, father," he said.
The room was unlike anything Alyn had seen. It was bigger than his small chamber, but that was no wonder. There ought to be one or two broom closets that could compete with the narrow darkness of his bedstead.
It wasn't the richly colored curtains, the marble floor. It wasn't the fine crafted chairs and table. It was not even the fact the air was cold and strangely stale.
Despite the light and the furniture, the room wasn't alive. There was nothing personal. Nothing inhabiting it that made it more friendly and less hostile.
The first steps to disappear were the strangers. The next was the screeching old soles of his father's boots.
So he stood there, staring at another boy, trying to figure out what exactly was happening here.
The boy was his age, or just slightly older. He said on the table, back hunched, shoulders drawn up, and something in Alyn felt pity. Because Alyn knew the motion too well.
Alyn's head was still spinning. He stepped a little closer to the dark-haired boy. Was he sick?
He looked sick. His face was ashen. Pale and thin, sharp and somehow...wrong. There was no other word to describe it. It was not that he was ugly, or deformed. From the outside, there was not so much difference to any silver child the same age. But his inside, the Link that tugged at Alyn, the mind. It was as if someone or something had turned every feeling of that boy upside down.
Soothe him. His father had said. He knew what Leon Velx wanted him to do.
It didn't make sense. It was a whirlwind. Confusing.
Alyn couldn't bring himself to get any closer. Whatever was wrong with the boy, it made him even more uneasy than any other feeling in this palace.
„Hello," Alyn said. Was he allowed to talk? He hoped he wouldn't get in trouble.
When would his father return?
The boy looked up. Brilliant blue eyes freckled with silver stared back at him, but he didn't answer.
Alyn felt his confusion. More than anything the boy was afraid and hurt. He didn't know why. He just knew there was something that wasn't right.
His feelings weren't much different from the ones that Alyn had.
„Hello." the boy said, shifting in his seat.
Now Alyn did step closer despite the whirlwind of emotion that hit him.
„My name is Alyn." he introduced himself. The boy watched him closely.
„My mother told me someone would come," he said, making no effort to tell Alyn his name.
Alyn pushed the feelings of all the people surrounding him away as best as he could, focusing on the boy.
„I am here to help you." he offered, as the whirlwind tugged at him, threatening to swallow him whole."What's your name?"
The boy pondered as if he didn't know if he even was allowed.
„Maven." he then said.
„Maven," Alyn repeated. That sounded familiar. But he didn't know why."Maven, I need you to be still for a second."
The whirlwind had slowed, but it was still there, hiding under Mavens unreadable features. Alyn took all the courage he had, trying to think of his mother, of his uncle, and pulled at it.
He never used his ability like this. It was forbidden at home. Sometimes he and his uncle trained it together. Or he would try and soothe the horses.
It took all the remaining strength the boy had to not just give up. But he was here to help. And if he did give up, his father would be disappointed.
He couldn't leave that boy like this.
With as much determination as he could find he tried to calm the whirlwind, untangle the emotion.
It hurt. It hurt so much the tears stung his eyes again. Something was so utterly wrong.
It wasn't like any kind of feeling he had ever witnessed.
Alyn started shaking, sinking to his knees.
Mavens eyes went wide."What are you doing?"
„Helping,"Alyn answered, staying on the carpet but trying to breathe. There was no way to make this whole chaos all right. Soothe, father had said. Dampen the emotions, his father had meant. Make him deaf.
He had done that once for his father. He never wanted to do that again.
He didn't want to do that now with Maven.
Alyn had been happy in his life. As he tried to think about all the times he had made his sister laugh, twirling her in the sunlight, he let his happiness float over to Maven. It wasn't enough. It was like a wet sponge, soaking up all of Alyns attempt to fix it.
But it did help.
He could see the other boy relax as Alyn let go of his feelings and hugged his legs, shaking.
„I told you I would help," Alyn said. „How are you?"
Maven opened his mouth. No word was coming out.
Alyn kept his eyes focused on him. He felt himself slip away. But losing conscience would only make his uncle worry and his father sure wouldn't approve of him sleeping on a carpet in the palace.
"I-"Maven finally spoke, eyes wavering."I don't know." he muttered.
„It will be all right," Alyn said.
Would it? He didn't know. He was so tired.
He meant it. But that did not mean it was the truth.
Just at that moment, the door opened.
Alyn saw his father accompanying another pair of strangers. He was too tired to even give them a second glance.
„Goodbye."Alyn managed to whisper, rubbing his head. Mavens blue eyes looked back at him for a second before he left.
Lord Velx grabbed his son by the arms, heaving him up from the carpet.
„Can you walk?" he muttered.
Alyn felt his shaking legs, then he slowly shook his head.
„It is all right, you did well."
The arms of his father embraced him for what felt like an eternity.
You did well You did well.
It echoed in Alyn's mind.
His uncle did not see it the same approving way his father did.
As soon as they had reached the gates of Rainport Manor uncle Theron was waiting, watching. As soon as the door was closed, something exploded around them- Alyn stood at the end of the stairs. He was tired but didn't dare to sit down.
Uncle Therons fist hit the wall next to his brother's face. "We had a very different agreement. You lied to me about this, Leon."
Alyn flinched.
"You drag your sick seven-year-old son into the walls of the palace? You let him do your dirty work?"
He didn't think his uncle could get so angry.
"I wasn't dirty," Alyn whispered, terrified to lose approval. "I swear I washed my hands."
The warm hand of his uncle lay over his brown curls. "A figure of speech, my son. You didn't do anything wrong."
"He did not." his father said. And for the first time, there was not only disappointment when he looked at Alyn. "In fact, he impressed the right people. I was never good enough at strangling minds. And you refused to do it. But the boy has the gift. And he is young. He needs to learn strength."
"I let you be head of the House because you needed to impress Ana's father. I let you keep the children because you promised to care for them. " Theron was a big man. Usually, no one noticed that. Now, Alyn watched him build in full height. He could taste the tension on his tongue. "Do not make me regret my decisions."
"You let me be head of the family because you know you cannot rebuild it." Alyn's father had paced away from the wall, slipping out of his coat. The few servants the manor still had were out of reach. They were rarely close enough to even see the children. His father was guarding them well. "If we gain favor with the Queen and earn a spot in court, I can negotiate. We can move into a better house. We can marry Zella to a prestigious husband as soon as she comes of age. A Provos. An Iral, maybe even, or a Samos."
Names, names he knew, of high houses. Names his father had made him learn.
Marrying Zella. Hardly imaginable with a creature half wild animal and half sunshine.
But that was an eternity away. She was a little girl.
"Take care." Uncle Theron warned. " Someone in Archeon will recognize your petty games. And they will not be as lenient as I am."
Then he stretched out his hand to Alyn.
Alyn gazed over to his father.
Shall I? Is this what you want? Please look at me.
But the man was lost to him. He didn't look at Alyn anymore.
„I had nightmares." a boy with black hair said, the voice like an animal creeping through the undertow."But they are gone."
„I have nightmares too." another boy confessed."But most times they aren't mine but my fathers, or anyone that is close enough."
This time the maelstrom didn't immediately consume Alyn. It slowly clawed its way into him. But he would bear it. He leaned against Mavens chair, looking at nothing in particular. Sitting on the ground made it less hard to keep himself upright and sitting on a chair. He had tried it, but failed miserably.
„My uncle says it is because I am vulnerable when I sleep." He hated sleeping. The darkness was always there, but in sleep it came uncalled. It tangled around his body and held him tightly.
Alyn turned his head slight. They didn't look at each other. Lost in their thoughts, in their exhaustion, maybe in worry.
„Do you think...they are gone because of you?"
A warm feeling settled in Alyn's stomach. He was useful. He was something his father could be proud of. "Who knows?"
Many years later he would answer that question for himself. He would look back and laugh at the pride he had felt. Because he thought he was doing good.
He looked back at Maven, watching his delicate face and the brilliant eyes.
„Let's hope they don't return, shall we?"
The visits were random. Alyn was still tugged in his chamber when his father didn't tell him to get ready. That was all right with him. The more people the more suffering. Alyn was used to the solitude.
When his father forced him to use his power on a person, it made Alyn sick.
Sometimes, his stomach cramped together. His heartbeat was racing fast in his chest. His palms grew sweaty and his hands were shaking.
Only his father reassuring him made it better. He had to care for his family, hadn't he?
With Maven it was different. It was the first time he really talked to someone his age. To someone that could have been a friend.
Alyn didn't mind taking something from the boys troubled mind. He even looked forward to the times they met, though they never had much time and never left the room they met in.
It was a secret. And his father intended to keep it that way.
After a while, something changed though. Not only, because he remembered where he had heard the name Maven before. But because he met the Queen.
Her presence was brief, but Alyn could still recall the dread his younger self-had felt when he had been near her. His father had bowed deep. He could feel the admiration oozing from him for this woman. But when he looked at her, tasting the emotion she might have, all he felt was something cold, piercing. He felt dread the way her twisted, venomous mind radiated.
His uncle had been waiting for them. He rarely showed himself in public, but Alyn was glad. He kept himself as close to his uncle as he could as they walked away, drawing strength from his warm, calm concern and love.
„She doesn't feel right," Alyn whispered, still shaken. His uncle laid a calloused hand on his small shoulder.
His father looked at him, brow furrowed."Whatever her majesty feels or does is none of your business, Alyn"
„The boy has a point, though." his uncle whispered."Whatever it is you have with that woman, it is not right at all."
„You speak about your queen."Lord Velx hissed.
„She's making him feel wrong too." Alyn protested. what did he do? Did he really help Maven? Why did his father take him there?
His father stopped in his tracks. And Alyn wished he had never raised his voice at all.
„You will never speak about this again, are we clear?" Anger hit Alyns face and he ducked, trying to hide from his father's wrath."You do as you are told, ALYN, your house depends on you. Do you understand?"
His uncle made a disgusted noise but didn't say anything more. His hand clenching Alyn's shoulder and his seething anger told Alyn everything he needed to know.
„Yes, father."Alyn murmured obediently.
His uncle died a year later. No one told him about it. But when he didn't come to visit, he asked his father. The mixture of sadness and anger was enough to tell Alyn he would never see his uncle again.
„I am depending on you now."His father said, looking down on Alyn's form, crouching in a corner of his chamber, tears filling his eyes."You can be more than I ever dreamed to be. Be proud and hold your head high."
Proud. What was there to be proud?