This little filler story was inspired by Catreallychaotic. Cat's headcanon about Deimos really got me thinking, and I decided to write about it. Soon, I realized I had not one, but two full-sized chapters on my hands, and you bet I wasn't about to let them go to waste.

Just so you know, I will be returning to the main storyline after this, don't worry.

Review reply time!

Wildgirl6: Ah, I see. Don't apologize for bad media. And I agree, characters who are supposed to be 'the smart one' jumping to conclusions is really, really annoying.

Guest: I am glad the confession of our favorite elves made you happy, my friend. I look forward to your reviews every week. :)

heneedsomemilk: THANK YOU. I was just WAITING for someone to ask me about the names. I can finally infodump on all my name choices! I tip my hat to you, friend.

theburningearth: It did indeed! After almost two months, it happened! Yay!

As requested by my lovely reviewer heneedssomemilk (he does indeed), at the end of the chapter, I explain the names for all of my OCs. There will be a lot. I'm excited.

So, sit back and enjoy this tale from the life of our villain, my readers.

Twenty-Four Years Ago…

"Hey! Hey Deimos, wait up! I know you can hear me!"

Deimos, however, only continued walking, rolling his eyes in annoyance. He only got a few steps farther, however, before he felt the owner of the voice jump onto his back, wrapping her arms around his head, effectively blinding him.

"Arg, Zira, get off me!" He yelled, spinning around, trying to shake her off in vain. She only tightened her grip on him.

"This is what you get for being so rude! There are consequences to your actions, you know!" She laughed as Deimos pulled at her unrelenting hands. "You get what you deserve, Dreary!"

Deimos finally secured a grip underneath her arms. With a grunt, he heaved her forward off his back. Zira, not missing a beat, flipped and landed neatly on her feet, folding her arms behind her back with a smug smile.

"I told you to stop calling me that!" Deimos snapped at her, straightening his navy-gray robes indignantly.

"And I told you to wait for me!" Zira fired back, hands on her hips. "And as long as the boot fits, the name sticks. That's the way it works."

Deimos heaved a great, tired sigh. Zira blinked at him, feeling just a bit guilty. She lightly punched his shoulder.

"Hey, man, if it really bothers you, I'll stop." She apologized.

Deimos raised a brow at her. "Will you really?"

"... No, probably not."

Deimos rolled his eyes again, and he resumed his walking. Zira fell in step beside him, humming lightly as she walked.

The two elves fell into a comfortable silence as they made their way through the Silvergrove, spending their free time in the marketplace before the bells summoned them to the dining hall for dinner. Browsing through the shops filled with wooden trinkets and silken robes, they slowly made their way around. Deimos, as usual, had nothing to look for in particular. As an assassin-in-training, he hardly ever needed worldly possessions. Or even wanted them, for that matter.

Zira, however, was on a mission. Her brown eyes flicked to and fro, observing everything displayed outside the shops. She pursed her lips in concentration, a frown creasing her forehead. She suddenly stopped when her gaze landed in one of the open shops.

"Ooooo, Deimos, look at this!" Deimos turned to see Zira dash to the shop, holding out a set of long, elegant, brown and navy robes. The bottom of the silk was trimmed with intricate amber lace, as were the ends of the long sleeves. On the hanger that it was hung from, two sets of spun metal, meant for putting up hair, were tied on the robes.

"It's my size, too!" Zira gushed, reading the information on a small piece of fabric that was pinned to the robes. "It would fit perfectly! Oh, isn't it lovely, Deimos?"

Deimos looked the robes up and down. It was lovely, he guessed… but…

"Why do you want that?" Deimos asked her. Zira was an assassin. She couldn't fight in such attire.

Zira gave Deimos a look. "Um, because it's perfect? And it's the only robe set I've found and liked that's my size?"

"And the Blue Moon festival is approaching," the shopkeeper mentioned, coming around to where the two were standing on the other side of the desk. He gave Zira a warm smile. "You would look stunning in this robe set, my dear. The amber trim brings out your eyes."

Zira smiled at the flattery. "Aww, you really think so? Thank you!" She looked back at the robes one last time, before nodding her head sharply. "I'll take them. How much do I owe you?"

As the two of them discussed the price of the robe set, Deimos yawned. His gaze wandered to the other shops out of boredom. Same old fruit stand, with bluebell planters hung over the door and under the open windows. The woman that owned the store was talking with another woman while she rocked her newborn baby to sleep. His eyes found the woodworker's store. The large tree it was built into boasted many wooden carvings, from birchwood birds to oaken three-tailed squirrels that scurried across the tree.

Deimos' ears suddenly pricked at the sound of nearby laughter. Turning, his hand resting on his sword sheath, he located the source of the voices, and his thoughts stopped.

There. Among the group of boys, who were laughing among themselves, was him.

To Deimos, he was the most well-known elf in the Silvergrove. To the rest of the Silvergrove, however, he was the most enchanting elf to ever walk the earth.

His name didn't mean 'dark moon' for no reason.

The color of his skin was so dark a blue, it was almost black. In contrast, the looping, waving lines of his tattoos were such a pale blue, they were almost white. His long, milk-white hair was set in what seemed like millions of tiny braids, which flowed loosely around his shoulders like waterfalls of moonlight. And his eyes…

His eyes were bright, silvery white. The rarest color among the Moonshadow elves. The only other Moonshadow elf in the whole of Xadia that possessed the unique hue was Luna, the daughter of Lord Artem and Lady Raith. He, even in the unique elven world he lived in, possessed an exotic beauty that ever rarely took form.

Esmeray was his name.

Deimos stared at him as he laughed among the other archery trainees. Esmeray tossed his braids over his shoulder in one fluid motion. Some of them flowed elegantly across the polished hickory bow that was strapped on his back. He bantered back and forth with his friends, laughing brightly. Deimos was quiet as he watched him, a sort of fascination in his eyes.

It was happening more often now, he mused to himself absently. Whenever the elf was around, Deimos' eye would be inexplicably drawn to him. He only had a few classes with him, namely archery and basic spellcasting, but every time those icy silver eyes looked his way, Deimos found himself looking back. He couldn't explain it. It just… happened.

"Perhaps it is because he is the most skilled of the archers," Deimos concluded, "as I am the most skilled of the swordwielders. I'm naturally drawn to him. The strong seeks the strong, after all." Though he felt, way down deep in his heart, that what he told himself was probably not true, he chose to believe it. He couldn't think of any other explanation.

"Deimos? Hellooooooo, earth to Deimos!" Deimos blinked as Zira snapped her fingers in front of his eyes. He turned towards her in annoyance.

"What?" He asked.

"I said let's get going!" Zira held out her robe set. "I bought the robes. I'm going to drop them off at my place before dinner."

Deimos frowned. "Isn't that just a waste of time?" He asked her. "Wouldn't it be better to just wait until dinner's over and save some time and energy?"

Zira feigned shock. "And risk spilling soup, or whatever they're serving tonight, on my brand-new, fresh-out-of-the-shop robes?!" She brought the robes close to her chest protectively. "You monster."

Deimos sighed at his very overdramatic friend. "Ugh. Fine." He gave her a sharp glare. "But you better make it quick."

She did not make it quick. Her pace was nothing above a leisurely stroll back to her little cottage. Deimos waited impatiently as she jogged up the steps and disappeared into her home. It was several minutes before she reappeared. By that time, Deimos was sure the dinner bell would ring at any second.

"What in blazes were you doing in there?!" He questioned her. "Boiling water for tea with only the heat from the sun?"

Zira fixed him with a nasty glare. Her previous good mood was gone. "Estel got sick again."

"... Oh."

Zira's little sister, two-year-old Estel… well, let's just say it was a miracle she was alive. Born right before a particularly harsh winter season, she nearly froze to death when a blizzard broke through the window of her room and buried her in freezing snow. From then on, her health was as fragile as porcelain. Whenever she got sick, it could go from mild to a battle between life and death within a heartbeat.

Whenever a dark part of Deimos' mind questioned if Estel really was so sick, he would remember when Zira fainted during training, pale-skinned, with dark circles beneath her eyes, because she had spent the entire night before helping her parents care for Estel. Estel had caught what was known as the Crimson Sickness, and she had been coughing up blood for the past two days, barely able to breathe at all. Zira had woken up crying, because she believed that her precious sister was going to die.

"What is it this time?" He asked, following her as she walked past him, making her way back to the village.

"Just a cold," she answered. By her tone of voice, Deimos could tell she thought otherwise. "Dad doesn't want to give her bogey berries, though. He's worried she won't be able to breathe."

"Ah." Deimos stared at Zira's back as she forged on to the dining hall. He felt the tiniest prick of guilt at the irritation he had felt earlier. "Sorry about getting mad."

"Accepted." Zira said curtly, glancing back at him with a small grin. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. Besides, Estel is getting better. She's been getting sick less and less often, and Healer Canneta said she'll get stronger as she grows."

Deimos nodded. "If they say so." Healer Canneta was known for their work in both Moon and Earth magic, using a combination of both to both heal their patients and predict future ailments. Healer Canneta was a busy, busy elf, but they were the best in the Silvergrove. If they believed Estel would get better, then there was a good chance Estel would get better.

Deimos' thoughts were subdued as the two of them walked to the dining hall. He really wasn't looking forward to another night of loud noises and chatter. With finals approaching, the Blue Moon festival happening, Zira's little sister, Esmeray, all of his thoughts crowded around in his head, making him feel claustrophobic in wide open space. He rapped his fingers across the sheath of his sword, the clicking noises somewhat of a comfort.

"I just want to go to dinner, eat, and go home." He thought, pressing his lips into a line. "That's all I want."

"Hey, D-D-D-Deimos! Z-Z-Zira!" A voice broke through his thoughts. Both elves turned to see a small-statured elf come running their way. Inwardly, Deimos groaned.

"Perfect." He thought sarcastically. "Exactly who I need right now. Io."

Io was perhaps the least popular elf in the Silvergrove. Esmeray's polar opposite. His looks were simple and common, with his light skin and minimal blue markings. His hair was kept in a short, messy fade, which was swept to the side. Though his skill was on par with Esmeray's, maybe even more so, he was a target for belittlement instead of awe. He hardly ever spoke, but when he did, he had a horrible stutter. Thus, the trainees had given him the nickname "Stuttering Io'' behind his back. If he was aware of it, though, he did not address it.

It wasn't that Deimos disliked Io, not at all. He just found Io's stutter incredibly annoying.

"Hey," Io panted as Zira and Deimos both stopped as he approached. "Th-Thanks for w-w-waiting for m-me."

"No problem, I-owe-you!" Zira replied cheerfully, giving him her signature older-sisterly hair ruffle. Zira was one of the few elves who didn't take part in Io's belittlement. She seethed at the fact that the other trainees mocked his stutter behind his back. She openly made friends with him, and gave him the much nicer nickname 'I-owe-you'.

The peculiar name was first born from when Zira lost a bet with him that he could shoot more bull's-eyes than she could. Zira told him she would pay him later, but never did. So, the nickname was born. It always brought a smile to Io's face whenever she called him by the name.

"D-D-Did the d-dinner bells r-r-ring yet?" He asked after he had caught his breath.

"No." Deimos said. "It would be kind of hard to miss if they did." That was always his strategy when he had to deal with Io. Minimal words, shut down the conversation as fast as possible.

"O-oh…" Io trailed off, looking very uncomfortable. He tugged on the long braid in his hair, the only section of his hair that he allowed to grow out. That tic also annoyed Deimos to no end. Mark his words, he was going to pull it out eventually. Zira must have noticed his eye twitching, because he swiftly received an elbow to the stomach.

"So, how are you today, Io?" Zira asked him, pointedly ignoring Deimos' offended glare.

He perked up. "I'm f-f-ine, th-thanks for as-as-asking." A look of sympathy suddenly crossed his face. "I h-heard about Es-Es-Estel, by the w-way. I m-m-met your d-dad in the healer's t-t-t-tree."

Zira sighed. "Yeah. Dad was really worried about her. It's hard to cure a cold without bogey berries." She shook herself, as if to shake away her gloom. "What were you doing in the healer's tree?"

"I, uh, I g-g-got into some t-tr-trouble with C-Cloudfall."

Deimos raised a brow. "Cloudfall? The Moonstrider you've been training?"

"Y-yeah." Io indicated the bandages on his shoulders. "C-C-Cloudfall wasn't feeling up t-to much t-t-training t-today. He… uh… s-sc-scratched me."

Zira's eyes widened. "Oh no! Are you alright?" Moonstrider claws were notorious for being sharp enough to strip the bark of a stonewood tree in one swipe.

"Yeah, I'm f-f-ine!" Io laughed it off, embarrassed. "He j-j-just cau-caught me off guard, th-that's all."

Zira went into full Big Sister mode. "Well, make sure you put Sun's Tears salve on it every three hours. It'll speed the healing process and make sure it doesn't get infected."

"Yes, M-M-Mom." Io giggled at Zira's amused glare. "I'll st-stop by the w-weapons m-m-masters' f-f-forge l-later to s-s-see if Al-Al-Alden has any I can b-b-orrow."

At the sound of his name, Zira's step faltered. Deimos cast a questioning glance to her as she cleared her throat.

"You're… going to see Alden?" Her voice dropped to a whisper, confusing Deimos even more.

Io gave her a knowing look. He grinned teasingly. "D-D-Don't worry, I'll b-b-be sure to t-tell him you sa-said hi."

Zira pouted, suppressing a pleased smile. The two elves chatted with one another, Deimos trailing behind, doing his best to block them out, as they arrived at the dining hall just as the bells sounded. They slid into the front of the line, behind the few elves that were already waiting. They received bowls of vegetable soup and seasoned bread rolls. As they passed the final area of the line, adding a cup of water to their meals, Io's head suddenly perked up at the sound of familiar laughter.

"Oh, is th-that Esmeray?" He wondered. His plain blue eyes searched the group ahead of him, before resting on the tall elf in question. Io blinked as Esmeray sensed the eyes on him, and looked up from his food towards the trio. Zira, being much more socially adept, simply waved and smiled. Io tensed up a little, only managing a stiff wave, before needing to awkwardly catch his food before it fell. Deimos only dipped his head.

Esmeray gave the group a dazzling smile. He waved to them politely.

"I'm sitting in the back tonight." Deimos announced to his friend, breaking off and walking to the far end of the hall.

"Wait, why?" Zira asked him.

"It's quieter."

Io and Zira exchanged a look as Deimos walked away. Zira only shrugged. "Table by the fire?" She asked him.

"F-F-Fine with me." He replied.

Deimos flipped through his copy of Dark Magic: How to Recognize and Avoid it as he sipped away at his soup. He was the only one at his table, which was tucked away in the quietest corner of the hall. His dust gray eyes flicked back and forth between the pages, reading through the information he had already learned numerous times. Dark magic was seldom a magic he liked to study, but he had to be prepared for anything he might encounter when he became an assassin.

Each page in the well-worn book had a different spell, the words, ingredients, and effects of the spells explained in detail. They only grew worse and worse with every page.

'Kram ruoy dnif, tlob rekeestraeh - A spell that ensures a projectile never misses its target. Used on spears, cannons, giant crossbows, and sometimes arrows, if the wielder is desperate. Uses the eye of a gryphon.'

'Niaga esir, nellaf fo hsa - A resurrection spell that brings to life afterimages of dead creatures. These creatures are immune to weapons of any kind. Can only be destroyed when their task is complete or with magic. Uses the ashes of the desired creature and a Shadowlife Candle (See page 6).

'Htaerb eht laets - A spell that steals the breath of those it is casted on. The victim is unable to breath when it is cast. Released either willingly, or if the paw is removed from the caster's possession. Uses the mummified paw of a Xadian singing weasel.'

'Etah fo nopaew a htiw efil niard ot, ssol dna evol fo tonk delgnat a tsiwt - The spell that creates an ultimate weapon of vengeance. It is so far unknown what exactly this spell is capable of-'

"Hey."

Deimos looked up from his reading to a pair of icy silver eyes watching him. He sat up straight in his chair as Esmeray glanced down to his book. "Studying for exams?"

"Yes." Deimos replied curtly. Esmeray nodded.

"Those spells are no joke." He commented, flicking his braids over his shoulder. Deimos watched the action with rapt attention. He felt an urge to straighten his own long hair, which had grown a bit frizzy in the humid summer night air. "Speaking backwards, using other creature's magic essence for spells, it's some awful stuff."

Deimos nodded. "Yeah." He had to resist the temptation to work his jaw. Why did it feel like he couldn't get the words he spoke out of his mouth?

Esmeray pulled around a chair and sat down. He draped one of his arms over the backrest casually, regarding Deimos with a thoughtful gaze.

"My Mom met one, you know." He mentioned.

Deimos' ears pricked. "A dark mage?"

"Yeah. Two, actually." Esmeray's eyes became distant. "My Mom and her team were patrolling The Border with a group of Skywing mages. They were checking on the outpost nearest to the river of lava when they found a group of humans crossing over."

Deimos' heart grew cold. "Insolent creatures."

Esmeray nodded in agreement. "There were only a few, but two of them, an old man and a young-ish boy, were dark mages from the kingdom of Katolis. My Mom said the old man was really frail, but despite barely being able to cast on his own, he almost killed three of the Skywing mages. Mom was the one who struck him down.

"However, the boy escaped. He used some sort of blinding spell that temporarily weakened the elves enough so he could get away. They don't know how he got back across The Border. Whatever the humans had stolen from Xadia, he took back to Katolis."

Deimos frowned deeply. "Blinding spell…?" He began flipping through his book, searching for it.

"Oh, it's not in that book." Esmeray yawned. "I've read it back to front. There are a lot of spells that aren't in it, actually."

Deimos tilted his head. "Really? How do you know?"

"That book was written almost fifty years ago. There must be hundreds of new spells the humans have concocted. Mom said the dark mages casted many spells she was unfamiliar with. Kept her team on the tips of their toes. Who knows what the humans are capable of, anymore."

Deimos was quiet. It had never occurred to him that the humans must have advanced their magic. Though he shuddered to admit it, dark magic was versatile. It could adapt. It was capable of great things. Terrible, horrifying things, but great all the same. He frowned. If Esmeray was right, which Deimos knew he had too much honor to lie… Deimos needed some serious study.

"Do you know of those spells your mother spoke of?" Deimos asked Esmeray.

Esmeray's brow raised. "I do." He examined his nails nonchalantly. "What's it matter to you? You're the best swordfighter in our entire year."

Deimos straightened in his chair. For some unknown reason, Deimos was inadvertently pleased at Esmeray's words. They carried a weight that Deimos had never experienced before. He had no idea what it meant.

"I may be very skilled," Deimos admitted, "but even my skill could be rendered useless in the face of dark magic. If I don't understand the lengths dark magic can achieve, then I would be more of a burden than an asset to the assassins."

"Oh?" Esmeray stopped leaning on the back of his chair. He folded his hands on top of the table, a sly smirk on his face. "What are you implying, Deimos?"

Deimos blinked at Esmeray's expression, speechless. What was this? This… feeling? Esmeray stared at Deimos coolly, waiting for his response. Deimos swallowed, confused. He gathered his thoughts back up, then he cleared his throat.

"Would you teach me?"

Esmeray's eyes widened slightly. He sat up in his chair, at his full height. Deimos noticed how much taller Esmeray was than him. "Teach you?" Esmery repeated. "Me? Teach you about dark magic? That's a little… suspicious, Deimos."

Deimos felt his cheeks redden. "Not… I meant teach me about the spells that aren't in the book," He clarified. "If I am to become the leader of the assassins one day, I need to be prepared for anything the humans have up their sleeves."

Esmeray pursed his lips, nodding in agreement. "True, true, that would be wise." He cast a glance at Deimos. "You have quite the lofty goals, Deimos."

"Yeah. It's my duty to serve the Silvergrove to the best of my abilities." Finishing off the last of his bread, Deimos began packing away his things. "If you are willing to teach me, I would deeply appreciate it."

Esmeray tilted his head in consideration. He twirled one of his braids between his fingers, humming. "I don't know…" His icy silver eyes flicked down to meet Deimos' dust gray irises. "What would I get in return?"

Deimos mulled over the question. It was fair, he mused. Seldom anything in the world was worth doing for free, in his opinion. What could he do for Esmeray…

"I could…" His eyes rested on his sword, which was still snug in its sheath. "I could spar with you. One-on-one swordplay. I could help you improve."

Esmeray narrowed his eyes. "Are you saying I need improvement?"

Instead of his usual speal of 'well, everybody needs improvement in something, no matter how good they think they are,' Deimos faltered over his words. He didn't know why. But the fleeting thought that he had offended Esmeray made him panic.

Esmeray, to his relief, just laughed. "I'm joking. There's always room for improvement." He faced Deimos with a smile. "And thank you. I would like to think I'm an adept swordfighter, but I am most definitely lacking in some areas. One-on-one sparring would really help me out."

Deimos nodded, just a hint of a pleased smile on his face. "Then it's settled." He concluded. "You teach me about the dark spells you know about, and I'll help you to improve your swordsmanship technique."

Esmeray grinned widely. "Sounds perfect."

The two elves shook hands with each other, just as the final bell rang through the dining hall, signalling that the day was officially over.

"Whoa whoa whoa, back it up," Zira had to run to keep up with Deimos. Io trailed behind the two, unusually silent, even for him. "You need to run that by me again, because I am almost certain something messed with my head and made me hallucinate the last words you just said to me."

Deimos sighed. He had reached the end of his patience so long ago, he had just become numb to Zira's nonsense. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose, tired. "I just want to go to bed."

"Like I told you twice before, Zira," He spoke slowly, emphasizing each syllable, "I made a deal with Esmeray. He mentioned that the school-issued book about dark magic didn't have a lot of spells that were developed since its publication. He's agreed to teach me about those spells. In return, I am going to train one-on-one with him to help improve his swordplay. That's all it is."

"Like Xadia, that's all it is!" Zira cried, hands on her hips. "I don't know how you are so calm about this, Deimos."

Deimos shrugged his shoulders in exasperation. "I don't understand why this is such a big deal to you, Zira. It's not like I haven't offered to train you one-on-one multiple times when you mention you need it."

"Th-Th-This is d-d-d-different, D-Deimos." Io spoke up. Deimos brow furrowed at Io's tone of voice. Why did it seem… off?

"How so?" He inquired. "Enlighten me."

"W-W-Well, other than the f-f-fact you ar-arranged this d-d-d-deal to exch-ch-change information with each other, you're also g-g-going to be s-sp-sparring one-on-one with the m-most g-g-g-gorgeous elf in the S-S-Silvergrove."

Bewilderment passed across Deimos' face. "What's that got anything to do with it?"

Io just stared at him. He pressed his lips into a thin line, unsure of where to take the conversation from there. "I'm j-j-just saying, al-m-m-most all of the k-k-kids in our year would j-j-jump at the oppor-t-tunity of g-g-getting to train with Esmeray." Io shrugged his shoulders. "Esmeray is an archery p-p-prodigy. Even Al-Alden, the next best archer, is j-j-just barely on p-p-p-par with him."

"Exactly. Well… Alden is really good, too," Zira muttered. Deimos squinted at her.

"Why is she so keen about Alden…?" "Well, for what it's worth," Deimos told them, "I'm only doing this because I want to serve the Silvergrove the best I can. There's no other reason."

Io nodded, sighing as well. "I kn-kn-know." He scratched the back of his neck. "I g-g-guess I'm j-j-just a little j-j-j-" He frowned has he struggled to get the word out, "jealous."

Deimos raised a brow. "Jealous? Why?" He couldn't fathom why Io of all people would be jealous of him. Io was pretty well off, in terms of skill. He wielded spears with deadly accuracy. Though he didn't look it, he was strong and quick on his feet. Deimos couldn't understand why Io was jealous.

As the group reached Deimos' home, however, Deimos yawned widely. He had no interest in mulling over the thought any more. "Well, I'll see you in the morning." He gave a half-hearted wave to Zira and Io as he climbed up the short staircase that led to the tree his home was built into.

"Okay," Io nodded. "S-s-see you t-t-t-tomorrow!"

"Goodnight, Deimos!" Zira waved back, a grin on her face. "See if you can beat me in training tomorrow!"

"I always do!" He called back, his mouth quirking in a smile. Though he would never admit it out loud, he truly was grateful to have a friend like Zira. And, though he would never admit it to even himself… Io was not a bad friend to have either.

Deimos entered into his home, yawning again as he set his things down in the built in shelves by the door. As usual, he heard clinking around in the kitchen, most likely his aunt doing the dishes, and low, pleasant chatter in the lounge.

"Ah, the assassin returns!" One of the men who was playing mancala smiled as Deimos walked in the room. He chuckled as Deimos waved absently at him. "Tired, much?"

"Yeah." He yawned. He nodded to the other man. "Hey, Luan."

The metal sculptor nodded in greeting. "Evening, kiddo. Anything interesting happen today?"

"No, not really." Deimos knew that his uncle Cy and his uncle's friend Luan would simply eat up the fact that he was now going to be training with Esmeray. They both admired the young archer, as most of the Silvergrove did. "Just the usual."

"Is that Deimos?" The resonate voice came from the kitchen. A face appeared around the corner. The woman smiled. "I didn't hear you come in! Welcome home."

"Thanks, Aika." Deimos received a hug from her. "Did you have a good day?"

"I did indeed!" She laughed brightly. "Just this morning, Lady Raith asked me to play for the festival coming up. I'm so excited! I've always loved the Blue Moon festival."

"Good for you, Aika."

She nodded, the creases in her face showing as she smiled. "Now, get to bed, young man! It's the new moon, and it's late! Not to mention exams! Go, go!"

"I'm going, I'm going." Deimos held up his hands in surrender. He almost laughed as Aika practically pushed him towards his room. Cy and Luan both laughed, their mancala pieces clinking around as they continued their game.

Deimos walked into his room, shutting the door behind him. His evening routine was a simple one. He changed out of his training garb and pumped water through the pipeline that ran through his home to wash. There were specially enchanted earthen stones in the bottom of his tub that heated the water to a suitable temperature. He bathed relatively quickly, in order to preserve the magic of the heated earth stones longer. After letting the water drain and toweling himself off, he changed into his much softer, looser robes.

Yawning once more as he walked out of his bathroom, he placed his hands on the sphere of glowing light embedded in his ceiling that illuminated his room. He whispered an incantation to it. A small line of runes flickered to life for a fleeting moment, before the light dimmed to almost nothing. As the moon was new, the magic was weak. It would reabsorb the moon's energy in time, when the moon became full again.

As Deimos lay down on his bed, he contemplated the events that had occurred during the day. Training with Esmeray would be valuable for him. He needed to know as much as possible about the humans and their dark magic before he was to become an assassin. It was imperative, if he was to uphold his duty. And on Esmeray's side, he would become much more skilled in the art of swordplay. They both would take their places and serve their purposes.

As he slowly lost himself into the dark folds of sleep, though, Deimos couldn't help but wonder… was there another reason he had agreed to this so easily? If anything, he was nothing but someone who carefully plans out his ideas. He is not one to dive headfirst into anything without reason.

So… what was different? What was different about Esmeray that made Deimos so… drawn to him?

… What made Deimos feel so differently about Esmeray?

Everyone has a story. We all came from somewhere. Even those who are to become villains.

As promised, I will tell you curious souls about the names I chose for my OCs.

Deimos- Meaning 'terror'. In mythology, Deimos was one of Ares/Mars' sons. One of the moons orbiting Mars is named Deimos.

Selena- Derived from Selene, who was the Greek titan of the moon. A very elegant name.

Elara (the archery instructor)- The meaning for the name isn't known. One of the moons orbiting Jupiter is named Elara.

Linnea (the shopkeeper)- Meaning 'lime' or 'linden tree'. Perfect for a florist, as Linnea is.

Estel (Zira's sister and Linnea's wife)- Meaning 'star'. A quiet, gentle soul, she is.

Luna- Latin for moon. As the ruler of the Moonshadow elves, she needed an easily recognizable moon name.

Jormun (Ethari's grandfather)- Derived from Jörmundur, a character from Eragon (a great book series). I wanted a strong sounding name for him.

Chila (Ethari's grandmother)- Meaning 'light'. She saw the good in everything.

Zira (Ethari's mother)- Meaning 'moonlight', 'messenger', and 'hatred'. She is a woman of many talents.

Alden (Ethari's father)- Meaning 'patient friend' or 'wise one'. He is indeed a patient elf, as he had to wait for Zira to confess to him!

Artem (Luna's father)- The male version of Artemis, who was the Greek goddess of the moon.

Raith (Luna's mother)- The meaning is unknown. Raith is a lunar goddess worshipped in Bali and Java.

Esmeray- Meaning 'dark moon'. I was very happy when I came across this one. Very fitting.

Io- A name from Greek mythology. One of the moons orbiting Jupiter is named Io. Simple, just like he is.

Canneta (the healer)- Literally 'healer'. An extravagant name, just like their personality.

Luan (the metal sculptor)- The Portuguese name for moon.

Cy (Deimos' uncle)- Meaning 'master', or 'lord'. He is a powerful, yet humble person.

Aika (Deimos' aunt)- Derived from the Chagga words for 'thank you'. She is a very gratuitous person.

It's always something else to read a story when you already know how it ends. Shakespeare told his audience at the beginning of Romeo and Juliet that the two lovers were doomed. Yet, you can't help but wonder what led to it. What was the story behind it? It's quite a fascinating phenomena.

As always, see y'all next week!

~TheMistDragon