Aaravos studies Callum's face and finds there a determination and stubbornness that reminds him achingly of Sarai, and though their son does not have her eyes, he has much of his mother's face. Callum doesn't hesitate to place his hand in Aaravos's, and his hand is warm, and soft in the way that the hands of those who are not warriors are, though there are calluses that speak to long hours with a pen and paper.
Aaravos closes his eyes and concentrates, reaching out to the Moon for truth, to the Stars for guidance, and the Sky for freedom. He would see Callum free of this pain that plagues the soul-name that Aaravos knows to be Callum's name in truth.
He needs to know what has caused this.
He reaches out and there comes a sense of fire, a roar that makes his ears ache, a sharp pain that seems to lance through him...no, not him...someone else, someone dear and kind…
"Oh," Aaravos breathes, the answer as bright as a newly honed spearpoint. "It happened before you were born."
The explosion. It had sought to imprison Aaravos, and trap anything that held even the tiniest trace of Aaravos's power. Aaravos had been meant to be lost to the world, imprisoned for eternity for his crimes in this tower adrift from time. And though Sarai had been safe on the other side of the portal when the explosion had ripped through the tower, the wards had still been able to affect their child, young and unformed as he was. It had sealed Callum's name, gifted by the Stars themselves, a secret that Callum would have never known. A part of him that would have been lost and beyond his reach forever.
The thought makes Aaravos tremble with rage, and he can feel the power rising up, hot and sharp in his chest.
Callum makes a startled sound as Aaravos's grip tightens and Aaravos quells his anger. He is not angry at his son, he is angry at his jailers, whose long-standing wards have caused this, who have kept him from his child.
"Callum, Sihr, abnay," Aaravos says softly, the endearment smooth on his tongue as he opens his eyes, "Do you trust me?"
"Yes," Callum says, and the sincerity rings clear in his voice, green eyes warm.
Aaravos gently pulls his son into an embrace, resting his head against his.
"Close your eyes, little najima," Aaravos says,"What was done to you was done before your birth, before you greeted this world with wide eyes and open arms. Your mother and your father did their best to protect you, but even their love could not have protected you from this."
"But you can undo it?" Callum asks.
"Yes."
"What can I do to help?" Callum asks.
"Think of your mother," Aaravos says quietly, "Think of her love for you, and your father's love for you. Draw strength from their memory. I will do the rest."
Aaravos closes his eyes again, pulls magic tight around them, and feels again the fire and sharp pain as he brings his power up, forming it into a spear of Starlight, aiming to pierce that seal that keeps his son's name from him.
Again he sees Sarai, her hands outstretched towards him, and hears her cry of anguish, sees the portal slamming shut.
He lets the spear fly, and feels the seal shatter like glass, power flooding outwards like a great river no longer damned and allowed to flow free once more.
Callum gasps, "What the hell?!"
Aaravos opens his eyes.
Callum is staring wide-eyed up at him, one hand pressed to his sternum.
"Your name was sealed," Aaravos says bluntly. "It is no longer. You are Callum, you are Sihr, son of Sarai, a child of Stars, Sky and Earth."
Callum doesn't get that eerie feeling of someone walking over his grave as Aaravos speaks the name that would have been given by his father.
"It worked," Callum says.
"Yes," Aaravos says, and there is that soft, sad fondness in his eyes again. "Would you rather I call you Callum or Sihr?" he asks.
"I don't mind what you call me," Callum says, smiling at him. "I think you like Sihr better," the name feels strange on his tongue, warm and sweet like a jelly tart fresh from the oven.
Aaravos inclines his head, a slow, regal movement, but says nothing. It is up to you, his golden eyes seem to say.
Callum hesitates still, for he likes his name, the one his mother gave him. It is all he's ever known but...he wants that connection to his father, even though the elf is no longer living. And Aaravos is the same kind of elf that his father was, a connection of elven blood if not paternal.
"Little najima," Aaravos says quietly,"It is your choice. I will not think less of you if you choose the name your mother gave you."
"I mean, do I really have to choose?" Callum asks, "Rayla and Ez call me Callum because that's all they've ever known me as. You called me by the name my father would give me...and I-want that connection. I know so little about Startouch elves, and you've given me part of that back," Callum smiles at Aaravos who seems lost for words.
"And once again, you surprise me," Aaravos murmurs after a moment, a wondering tone evident in his deep voice. "Then I will call you Sihr," he says.
"Okay," Callum says brightly.
Aaravos turns his head slightly, but Callum could swear that there are tears in the elf's eyes again though when he turns back to Callum, his eyes are dry.
"Can you," Callum begins to ask, then hesitates, but pushes onward. He wants to know more of his father's people, his people. "Can you tell me more about Startouch elves?"
"What do you wish to know, Sihr?" Aaravos asks. "For we are a long-lived race and our lifetimes span many generations of humanity. There is much to our culture and people that goes unknown even among our elven cousins."
"Umm," Callum says, because he's unsure of exactly where to start. Growing up, he's learned Katolisian traditions, and they are instinctive, well-known to him. This is something new, and though elven blood flows through him, he knows so little about it.
Aaravos seems to take pity on him, a soft, fond smile on his lips.
"The beginning, I suppose, is the best place to start, don't you think?" Aaravos says kindly.
"Um, yeah," Callum says, "Yeah, that sound good."
Aaravos laughs quietly.
"Once, little najima, long ago, the stars walked in an endless, dark void," Aaravos says, "and found that the silence that had once embraced them as a mother might her child, had become smothering. So, they sang into being the world..."
Callum listens intently as Aaravos speaks, describing the creation of the elves, and of humanity, born from the hands of a dark star, unbound to any Primal Source. He's heard tales of the world's beginning from Mom before, but that had been humanity's tale and not the elves.
Mom had said that the great warrior goddess, Jahara, had strode through darkness of the void and brought the world to life, that the stars in the night sky were sparks from Her great spear, and the world was formed from Her breath and life. Mom had said that after creating the world, Jahara had become tired of Her labors, and gone to sleep, and rested still, cradling the world in Her hands, and that the moon was one of Her many eyes watching the ages pass over Her creation.
Callum had once found the thought of the moon as an eye fearful.
"Do not be afraid, Callum," Mom had said, hugging him, stroking her fingers through his hair, "She watches over you, as She does all of Her children."
"Even the elves?" Callum had asked.
"Even them," Mom had replied. "For just as we humans were born of Jahara's blood and flesh, the elves were made from Her silken hair and Her eyes and are just as much Her children as we are."
"She must have a lot of eyes to make so many people," Callum had said.
"She does," Mom had said. "She has as many eyes as there are stars in the sky. But the Moon is Her great Eye, and the most bright."
"What about the Sun?" Callum had asked. "It's very bright."
"It is," Mom had agreed, "and it is Her second eye, for Jahara was born of darkness and solitude, and Her light came later."
There are some differences between the stories, but some things remain the same, the great void that was empty of light and the creation of all those who walked the world. Callum wonders what else is similar between his parents' cultures.
"So, where do Startouch elves live?" Callum asks.
"When we dwelt among our kin, we lived in...hmm the word does not quite translate to the common tongue, the closest approximation I can give you is star-towers. They were enormous trees that shone like the stars, and we built our homes amidst the branches, so that we would be closer to the heavens that gave us life. Each star-tower could hold an entire village, and if we desired to set out on our own to find a new home, we would carry a seed of our village's tower and when we found a place to settle, we would plant it and sing to it so that it would grow high and strong."
"That sounds...amazing," Callum says, awed, imagining towering silvery trees that glowed with a soft and gentle light.
"It was," Aaravos murmurs, expression distant and quiet. "The star-tower in which I spent most of my life was at the edge of what you now call the Barren Plains, but it sunk into the sea long ago."
"Are there others in Xadia?" Callum asks.
"Other star-towers?" Aaravos asks. "Perhaps, no doubt well hidden from even elven eyes now. With the creation of dark magic and the...murder of a Startouch Archmage, our people withdrew, fearful of dark mages seeking to harness the power of their hearts."
"It was a Startouch Archmage that was murdered?!" Callum asks, and in his mind, he sees again the cliff, the tall figure standing there, silver-capped horns glinting in the moonlight, and hears again that terrible scream of agony that seemed to shatter the night.
"It was," Aaravos says, and his voice is so soft, that Callum has to lean in closer to hear the words. The elf looks uncomfortable with the subject, so Callum asks a different question, hoping to steer the conversation towards something else.
"Do all elves speak the same language?"
Aaravos looks relieved at the change of subject, and shakes his head. "Not exactly. We have a common elvish that is spoken throughout Xadia, but we all have our own languages as well. Therefore, if I was speaking to a Moonshadow elf, I would use the Elven common. It would be impolite to start a conversation in Moonshadow elvish before I had been invited to do so," Aaravos says. "Some elves have learned the human common tongue which is useful for infiltration missions."
"You learned human common," Callum points out, "and my friend Rayla speaks it too."
"I did," Aaravos says, "I knew humanity when it was younger, before the Age of Dark descended upon the land. But that was a very long time ago."
"Is there a spell I could learn to help translate elvish?" Callum asks. "If we run into any elves, I think Rayla is going to be doing most of the talking."
"There...is," Aaravos says, frowning. "I am not sure what it is exactly. I will have to look through the library, Sihr. I cannot give you an answer right now."
Callum nods. "Okay. What else can you tell me about Startouch elves?"
"We do not name our children at birth," Aaravos says, "We wait for a month and meditate, asking the Stars for their guidance in best choosing a name for the child. Your father would have done the same for you."
"So what does your name mean?" Callum asks. "If mine means magic?"
"It means the morning star, that which is the brightest star in the sky, the one that guides all others in their cycle through the heavens," Aaravos says quietly, and one hand comes up to rest against the dark star upon his chest that glimmers at the edges. "And once it was true."
"I don't suppose you know what the name Rayla means?" Callum asks, after Aaravos doesn't elaborate further.
"Your moonshadow friend, yes?" Aaravos asks, his voice gaining a dry tone to it. "Rayla, means courage in moonshadow elvish, while in Startouch elvish it means brave hearted. A fitting name. Moonshadow elves name their children for the virtues that they wish the child to embody."
"She is very brave," Callum agrees, "she went against her teammates to help me and Ez."
"A difficult thing to do," Aaravos says, "Moonshadow clans are tight-knit communities, scattered as they are throughout Xadia. If word has reached them of her actions, you will not be welcomed."
Aaravos's eyes are solemn now, his expression grave, "You must be cautious, Sihr."
"I will be," Callum says, "I promise."
Aaravos smiles at him. "That is all I ask, abnay."
A/N: As ever, a big thank you to Moondancer5813 for all of her help! The next chapter should be up sometime within the next two weeks. Thank you all for your patience and support!