The child sits beside him, and though he had flinched as Aaravos had opened his eyes, he seems to hold little fear now.
"I'm Callum," the boy says.
"Callum," Aaravos says, rolling the name around in his mouth. It doesn't fit this mage. "What a strange name..."
"Hey," Callum scowls, "My mom picked that name, I'll have you know!"
"And what pray tell," Aaravos asks, "Was her name?"
Aaravos hardly remembers his own parents, their names lost to time and their faces blurred in his long memory.
"Sarai," Callum says. "Mom's name was Sarai."
"Sarai," Aaravos murmurs. That is a name he does know, for her death created a twist in the warp of fate's loom. But the name is also strangely familiar, and he thinks for a moment that he smells the sweet scent of lotuses in bloom, feels something soft beneath his fingers.
It is there for but a second and then gone.
"She was a Queen of...Katolis?" Aaravos asks, parsing through his memory.
"Yeah," Callum says, looking away.
"Hmmm," Aaravos hums, "Tell me, little najima, what brings you here?"
"I don't know," Callum says. "I was sleeping before."
"Interesting," Aaravos says, shifting so he lies on his back, staring up at the high domed ceiling. "I suppose you have questions."
"Some, if you'd be willing to answer them," Callum says.
Aaravos smiles. "Sit, little najima, and I will answer if I may. You are newly come to magic. You must want to learn all you can."
"What's the catch?" Callum asks, and Aaravos's smile widens. Good, one should know a bargain's terms before one agrees to anything.
"All I ask, is that any magic you learn from me that you cast in the waking world, you will tell no one who has taught you. My name is...not wise to speak aloud."
"Why not?"
"There is a reason, young one," Aaravos says, "That I am kept here. But we will not speak on such today. To understand the Sources, we must start at the very beginning."
Callum frowns, but says nothing.
"Long ago," Aavaros begins, "Xadia was one land, rich in magic and wonder. In the old times, there were only six Primal Sources of magic: the Sun, the Moon, the Stars, the Earth, the Sky, and the Ocean."
"I can use Sky," Callum says. "But I don't know any of the others."
"The Sky calls to you," Aavaros says. "It is unusual for a human to have such a connection."
"Yeah, I've been told that," Callum says. "I wanted to ask Mom more about my birth dad but never got the chance."
"You did not know him?"
"No. I knew little things like his favorite color and that he was an artist like me but not a lot else," Callum says, and changes the subject, "Why do you keep calling me little 'najima'?
"It means little star," Aaravos says, "for you shine like the stars themselves, so bright with potential and power. You have the makings of a great mage, Callum."
"Thanks," Callum says, flushing, "If you don't mind me asking, what are you exactly?"
Aaravos laughs. "I am a Startouch elf and there was a time when we numbered as grains of sand upon the shore. Now we are fading and falling like comets from the sky, few and disparate."
"I've never heard of Startouch elves before."
"I am not surprised," Aaravos murmurs, "We prefered to watch the world from afar for much of history. We only became more involved when humanity learned to bend magic to their will."
"The dark magic," Callum says.
"Correct."
Callum shivers at the thought of the dark magic. He had used it once, more out of desperation than anything but he doesn't want to use it again if he can.
Now that he knows how to use Sky, to connect to that Primal source, he wants to learn more. Could he connect to other sources? Could he learn to connect to the moon like Rayla, or to the sun?
"You've used it before, haven't you?" Aaravos says softly.
Callum looks down at him.
The elf's eyes are closed, hands folded across his chest, expression calm.
"Used what?" Callum asks.
"The dark magic," Aaravos murmurs, "It leaves a mark on its users, faintly in your case, though over prolonged usage of it, the mage becomes scarred and deformed. Dark magic is the easy way out, little najima. Do not forget that." his voice is soft, quiet enough that Callum must lean closer to hear him.
"I won't," Callum says. "Can you teach me to connect to the Stars, seeing as you're a startouch elf?"
"I could," Aavaros says, "But my magic is weakened for the time being, little najima."
"Is that why you were on the floor?" Callum asks, wondering if the elf can even move off the floor at the moment.
Aaravos gives a tiny nod.
"I pushed too hard," the elf says mournfully, "I won't make the same mistake again. However, I can tell you what the Stars are like, their concepts and ideas."
"I'd like that," Callum says.
"The Stars are knowledge, a guide in the dark when all is lost, they were the Firstborn of Creation, and saw the world come to be. They know all, seeing across all of time and for all time. You need only ask for guidance, and the Stars will show you the way."
"That sounds...surprisingly easy," Callum says.
"Perhaps the Stars will answer you as Sky has," Aaravos says, sounding tired.
"Are you alright?" Callum asks.
"I am weary," Aaravos says, and his dark eyes are half-lidded now, watching Callum. "Some things are not meant to be known. And the backlash of knowing can be...harmful."
"What if I want to learn everything?" Callum asks.
Aaravos laughs quietly, "Then you learn what you can, but know the risks. Know how to shield yourself from the worst and know how to defend against it if the attempt goes ill."
"How do I shield then?" Callum asks, "Could I use Aspiro to do that?"
"You could," Aaravos murmurs, "Cast the spell you want to try outside of the range of Aspiro, using the wind to block the effects if it goes badly."
"What spell did you cast earlier?" Callum asks. "Why couldn't you block it?"
Aaravos laughs again, low and bone-tired to Callum's ears. "I wanted to an answer to a question. But it seems, I cannot know the answer. It is hidden from me, for what reason I know not. I pushed for the answer, and the spell backlashed. I could not block it because it is a part of me. Part of my magic, my connection to Sky and Stars. You could block such a spell because humans are not born to magic as we elves are. Your mother's blood protects you, little najima. Even in death, she protects you."
Callum closes his eyes against the sudden tears. Mom's death has never truly dulled over time, and though Ezran dimly remembers their mother, Callum has vivid, bright memories of Sarai.
"Ah," Aaravos says, and then there are slender arms about Callum's shoulders, the press of silken cloth beneath his cheek. "I did not mean to bring you to tears, little najima."
"It's okay," Callum chokes out, the grief catching the words in his throat. "It just reminded me of her."
Aaravos hums quietly, saying nothing.
It takes Callum time to collect himself, and he finds himself a little reluctant to leave the hug. Stranger or no, he feels safe here.
Aaravos can feel the grief that lingers about Callum. The loss of a mother is heavy, especially when one is young. He knows this from the experiences of others if not for himself. Although, come to think of it, he doesn't even know if his own parents still live.
He finds that he doesn't particularly care, either. He gets the vague sense that they did not care enough to help him before his imprisonment. He has little wish to see them again if they are alive.
At last, Callum shifts, pulling away, wiping at his face.
"There is a spell that I may teach you," Aaravos offers. He has enough strength to do that at least, and he'd like to make up for causing the child to cry.
"A spell?" Callum asks.
"Yes," Aaravos says, bringing his hands up and tracing the lines of power into the air, glowing white with the power of the Stars. "Inlustris," he breathes and tiny stars wink into existance, circling about him, giving off a faint aura. "It may illuminate your path in your journeys."
"Wow," Callum whispers, scooting a little further back, hands up to mimic the spell.
Aaravos laughs, "Eager, aren't we?"
"Well, yeah," Callum says, grinning. His hands trace elegant lines of power, his eyes half closed as he concentrates.
"Inlustris," Aaravos says at the same time Callum does, and their voices reverberate, an audible hum through the air as stars appear around Callum.
"Wow," Callum whispers, awestruck.
"Well done, little najima," Aaravos murmurs. "Properly cast on your first try no less. Impressive."
Callum beams at him. "My memory is really good."
Something about his smile reminds Aaravos of—pain crackles like lightning through his mind and he gives a sharp hiss, closing his eyes and pressing his hands to his head, trying to breathe through the agony.
"Are you alright?" Callum asks and Aaravos feels one of the child's hands touch his.
"I want to remember," Aaravos growls, "I want to remember, why won't you let me?!"
Callum's fingers brush his forehead and there is a spark of clarity.
-"Are you a elf?"
"Is there anything else I would be?"
"You could be a dragon."
"I'd be a very small dragon, then."
"Or you could shapeshift. I've heard dragons can shapeshift."-
The voice is warm, curious and filled with a wry humor. He doesn't know their name. He knows it's there, buried under layers of magic that twists like chains through his own, tightening even as he attempts to pull back, fighting not to pass out again.
Callum's hands are at his temples, his palms cold like ice and the sensation is enough to deaden the pain and Aavaros takes a ragged breath.
"Was that backlash?" Callum asks.
"Not...entirely," Aavaros says, "Someone really...didn't want me to remember...whatever it was."
He pauses. "You used Sky again...didn't you?"
"Yeah," Callum says. "You look really pale. Like grey almost. Is that normal for Startouch elves?"
"No," Aaravos says, closing his eyes again. "I must rest...regain my strength."
He stands shakily, making his way over to his chair and slumping into it. Over a thousand years old, he thinks and he's brought down by mind-altering magic. It's sad really.
Callum is watching him, concerned.
"I will be fine, little najima," Aaravos murmurs, eyes slipping shut. "You should rest yourself, you no doubt have work to do when you wake properly."
"Wake-wakey, Callum!" Rayla's voice calls, and next moment, Callum is staring up at her pale face.
"Wha?" he mumbles, confused. Last thing he remembers is talking to Aaravos, who certainly hadn't looked well, slumped in a cushioned chair near an ornate mirror.
"It's time for your watch," she informs him. "Please don't fall asleep. I don't want to wake up to banthers gnawing on my ankles."
"Banthers don't eat ankles," Callum says, yawning and sitting up. "They eat your liver, everyone knows that."
"Eww," Rayla says, "That's disgusting."
Callum shrugs, reaching for his sketchbook and charcoal. The moon gives off enough light to sketch by.
"Go to sleep, Rayla," Callum says as Rayla curls into a ball beside Zym. "I'll make sure no banthers get us."
"Yeah, yeah," Rayla mutters and is snoring quietly in minutes.
Callum looks around and begins to draw.
He ends up drawing a caterpillar of some kind. It looks creepy, with a pincer-like mouth and strange markings down its sides.
He sighs and starts sketching again. The room he'd seen in his dreams takes shape beneath his charcoal, Aaravos asleep atop the circle of Primal symbols, expression peaceful.
Callum wonders why he told him not to speak his name aloud. Was it cursed? And why was he in that place?
He has so many questions to ask the elf. About himself, about the Primal Sources, and magic. Aavaros had said he was kept there. So was he imprisoned for something? Or was he trapped there?
He muses over the questions for a long time until dawn creeps over the horizon.
He's drawn Aavaros a few more times, wondering just how the elf was able to speak to him before. Maybe Startouch elves were different than Moon or Sunfire elves.
Callum closes his sketchbook and puts it away, moving to wake Rayla and Zym. They've still got a ways to go to get to the Moonlight Path into Xadia.
Best to get moving sooner rather than later.