Getting Viren out of his jail cell is one thing, Aaravos thinks, studying the cell through the star-worm's eyes. Getting him past the guards entirely is another. Viren is only human but Aaravos can feel the Dark magic that has seeped into the mage's body, a corruption from within. Channeling the natural elements through Viren's casting had burned away some of it but much remained, a black ichor that flows like blood through Viren's veins.
There's something that has been nagging him about Viren's history with Callum. His son had said the man was somewhat of a jerk, and there had been a darkness to Callum's green eyes, a shadow that made Aaravos wonder.
He withdraws from the star-worm, returning to the balcony where he has sat in meditation as the day has begun to fade into night, streaks of red marring the darkening sky. The obsidian scrying bowl rests before him, already filled with water, which gleams beneath the light of a slowly waxing moon.
Aaravos prays to the Stars for guidance and settles his hands at the bowl's edges, and begins to chant.
Scrying, though usually done for events in the present, could be done for events in the past.
"'arini tarikh abnay mae Viren," Aaravos commands and the words seem to sing, almost bouncing off the water, sharp and crystalline images spiraling out from the center of the water.
He sees his son, so small and young, hiding behind his mother's leg, watching a much younger Viren, who is speaking animatedly with another young man with dark skin and bright eyes who wears a crown of uneven towers.
The scene shifts, and Sarai and her son stand with the king for a family portrait. Sarai is holding a baby in her arms and Aaravos's heart aches, watching them, smiling and happy. The portrait is finished and the family disperses as the king stands for one last portrait, Callum waving shyly to Viren who returns the wave, a warmth on his face that has been completely absent every time that Aaravos has seen the man.
Another shift, and the king is speaking with Callum, face grave with sorrow, and Callum's face is heartbroken. Viren stands in the shadows, and...he looks just as heartbroken and strangely...guilty. Aaravos has little time to wonder about the expression before the scenes are shifting, jumping forwards in time.
Callum grows taller, and Viren grows grayer, his face pinched and weary with stress. And his interactions with Callum grow sharper, when the two are in the same room.
Aaravos studies the water, reading the mage's lips, and he finds the words "step-prince" used more often as the years pass.
Then comes a night where the moonshadow elves attack. Soldiers line the stairways and the halls, as outside, in the ebony sky, a full moon rises.
Aaravos watches as Callum tries to speak with the king, clearly shouting at Viren to let him pass. And then—Viren uses Dark magic against Callum.
Aaravos stares, aghast at the scene unfolding before him, Callum's voice stolen from him. The moonshadow elves charging through the soldiers of Katolis, and in the confusion, Viren dropping the claw that held Callum's voice. Callum's scream for the king, and then in fear and anguish, running from the battle.
Aaravos shoves the scrying bowl away from him, water shaking over the sides and struggles to calm the rage that has welled up inside him, like a volcano that is ready to explode.
Viren has used Dark magic against Aaravos's precious son. His child, his brilliant Sihr.
He bites back the urge to reach out to Viren, to demand answers, to do something.
Aaravos reaches out to Earth instead, seeking balance once more. He's unstable enough as it is.
It is almost midnight before Aaravos is anywhere near calm, the embers of his anger smoldering, just waiting to be unleashed when the time is right.
He considers the visions of his scrying, and recalls Viren's expression when the king had spoken to Callum, guilty and sorrowful. Guilt could be useful, he thinks viciously.
Aaravos pulls the scrying bowl towards him again, braiding his hair back so it stays out of the way, and leans over the bowl, beginning to chant again. He seeks the reason for Viren's guilt and his magic lends sound to his ears, gives the scenes more life than it would otherwise.
"The heart of a Magma Titan," a younger Viren proclaims, standing beside the king, "...if we can hunt this monster and slay it, I can use the heart of the titan in a powerful spell that will warm the land, and allow us to magically grow and incredible bounty."
"I know it seems like this will solve things," Sarai says, and she is arrayed in red and gold, wielding her spear with grace and finesse, "but isn't it a little too easy? That's always the way with dark magic."
"We must take the heart and hurry back," Viren says, surveying the corpse of the magma titan, lying in ruins, another magical creature fallen to human desperation.
"This is our day to sacrifice," one of the queens of Duren proclaims, as the Dragon King roars his challenge against those who would dare invade his lands. "You get the titan's heart to safety. Save all of our people," the other queen adds.
Thunder ravaging the land, the clouds dark and black.
"I can help!" Viren cries, turning back to the battlefield.
"Viren," Sarai says, turning and finding the mage not among those who have already made it through to the safety of the human lands. "Without him to perform the spell, the heart is worthless, and this was all for nothing."
"Sarai," the king says, "What are you saying?"
Sarai mounts her warhorse, wheeling back towards Xadia, "I'll see you on the other side."
Sarai finds Viren, swings him up behind her in the saddle.
"Thank you," he says, wide-eyed.
"Don't thank me yet," Sarai says and then they are running from the King of the Dragons as he calls down the lightning.
They run, but do not get far. Thunder's blast throws both riders from the warhorse's back—and Sarai's shriek of agony is choked by blood. Her breath rasps, wet and pained, chest struggling to rise. Her hands twitch towards her throat, as if to tug at a pendant that is no longer there, her gauntlets dusty and blood-spattered. Then she is still and does not move again.
Aaravos shoves the bowl back, a cry of horror escaping him before he bites his lip, holding in the scream that wants to claw its way free.
Viren is the reason his wife is dead.
A part of his brain tries to reason that Sarai had made the decision to go back, that Viren does not entirely bear the blame but he refuses to listen to it.
And Viren's not entirely useful right now, is he? Another part of him whispers, cold and smooth as silver beneath the moonlight, as a knife in the back. He's locked in a cell, lacking information and power. What good is he?
Yes, Aaravos thinks, what good is he? He hurt my son and it is his fault that Sarai is dead!
The stone beneath him groans threateningly, and cracks begin to spiderweb out from the scrying bowl, and Aaravos snarls, standing, his rage boiling over.
He stares out into the void and lifts his hands, and the words seem to crack through the air, as if a sheet of ice has broken, "Sol trabem."
He lets all of it rise up, the anger, the sorrow, the pain, and sets it free into the void in a great explosion of light that sears his eyes, that turns the night sky to brilliant day, again and again, and it's not enough, it won't be enough, it will never be enough-
He reaches out, and a storm roars about the tower, a hurricane that embodies all of Aaravos's anguish, made into reality by his magic alone.
Perhaps, Aaravos thinks, watching the winds whip past, hearing the rumble of thunder in the distance, the rain pelting about him, I truly have lost my mind.
The thought makes him laugh, high and wild, and then it turns to wretched sobs and that sound too is lost to the wind.
Callum breathes a sigh of relief as the Barren Plains vanish behind another rolling hill.
"I am so glad to be out of that place," he declares.
"Same," Rayla agrees.
Zym chirps from his perch on Rayla's shoulders, a delicate balancing act that the little Prince has perfected over the weeks and days they've been traveling.
"So where are we going now?" Callum asks.
"North," Rayla says, "We'll be in the Spines soon."
"The Spines?" Callum asks.
"Mountains," Rayla clarifies. "We call them the Spines of the Ancients, or the Spines for short. Some of the Skywing elves live in the higher parts, but we probably won't see any."
They camp at the edge of the Spines, nestled into a small cove at the base of the range. Zym curls into a ball at Callum's side as Rayla takes first watch, and Callum closes his eyes and sleeps.
The tower is dark when Callum arrives.
Thunder rumbles outside, lightning flaring past the high windows, casting eerie shadows up the walls and Callum shivers, touching his pendant nervously. It is icy cold against his skin and he isn't sure what that means.
Every time he's come to the tower, it's been a place of warmth, comforting and as familiar as his own room back in the castle. The fireplace is ashes and Callum can hardly see where anything is in the gloom, though he knows by memory where most things are.
Callum looks around for Aaravos, finding the mage absent. It's strange, he's never seen him anywhere else but this room. Though, then again, Callum has never been anywhere but this room.
There are a set of double doors on the other side of the study and Callum heads towards them.
"Aaravos?" Callum calls, knocking. "Are you in here?"
There is no reply, save the thunder.
He opens the doors.
He's staring down a flight of stone steps, that curl downwards into pitch black depths.
"Inlustris," Callum whispers, and the stars shimmer around him, the sight comforting. "Aaravos?" he calls lowly. "You down there?"
No reply.
"Well, here's to hoping you don't keep something terrifying in the basement," Callum mutters, and descends.
The stairs go for ages, and Callum is starting to wonder if they just go on forever or if there's some strange magic involved when he arrives at a landing with an ornate door. It's rusted but there are panels inlaid into it that look like glass and that shimmer in the light of the stars that still swirl about Callum.
Callum knocks.
"Aaravos?" he calls, "You in here?"
Although, Callum supposes there's little other place the elf could be, unless there were other hiding places around the tower.
The door creaks inward, revealing a small well-lit study, the walls lined with bookshelves, the sound of low singing drifting to Callum's ears and he relaxes a little, recognizing the voice.
"Aaravos," he says, walking in and finding the elf seated in a chair beside the roaring fire. "What is this place?"
"An escape," the elf says softly, looking up at favoring Callum with a gentle smile. "Have a seat," he gestures towards the other chair that sits across from him. "Sometimes the upstairs study is a little...boring. So I have this one below."
"It's pretty far down," Callum says, settling onto the cushioned chair.
"Is it now, I hadn't noticed," Aaravos says slyly.
"Did you just make a joke?" Callum asks, incredulous.
Another smile, "What do you think?"
Somewhere overhead, the thunder rumbles.
"I think you elves have strange sense of humor," Callum decides. "What's with the weather? I've never seen it storm here before."
"The weather here changes with the seasons," Aaravos says, shrugging. "It will be over soon enough."
Are you frightened of it?"
"Of the storm?" Callum asks, "Nah, though my little brother is sometimes if they're really loud."
"Hmm," Aaravos says, "how have you been, Callum?"
"Fine, I guess," Callum says, "We've gotten out of the Barren Plains at least."
"Good," Aaravos says, leaning back in his chair, the firelight flickering across his dark face. It casts strange shadows beneath his eyes, giving them a deep-sunken look. "It is not a place you should linger long," he murmurs, studying Callum. "Where do you intend to go now?"
"Um, north, I think," Callum says as an absolutely booming thunderclap seems to shake the tower, "Should we go check on that?"
Aaravos looks unconcerned, not even twitching as the next peal of thunder causes a book to fall from the shelf. "It will pass in time, Callum," Aaravos says, his voice soft and smooth as silk, "Surely you're not a little afraid of thunder?"
"I'm not," Callum says. "You aren't worried about anything breaking?"
"Not at all," Aaravos says, "There have been storms before. They all pass in time. Now," the elf rises from his chair. "Do you trust me, Callum?"
"Yes," Callum replies.
Aaravos smiles, his eyes glittering as he stands. "Good, come with me, there's something I want to show you."
"Do you actually have something terrifying locked in the basement?" Callum asks, following him, "I mean, in the basement that probably-"
Aaravos opens the door and there is another staircase leading down.
Okay, that's weird, Callum thinks. "There wasn't a staircase going down before," he says, peering around Aaravos.
"Magic can do many things, Callum, even hide staircases," Aaravos murmurs, amusement in his tone, and then there is a miniature sun hovering above the elf's hand. "Come along now."
They descend, the only light the sun in Aaravos's hand, sending their shadows flickering up the walls in an eerie dance.
"How far down are we?" Callum asks.
"How far down do you think we are?" Aaravos asks.
"Beneath the tower, at least," Callum says. "What do you keep down here anyway?"
"Magical artifacts, for the most part," Aaravos says, turning to look back at him, though he continues walking.
The pendant growers colder still, and Callum winces.
They come at last to a landing, the stones worn smooth. Here too, there is a rusted door inlaid with glass and Aaravos pulls it open with little difficulty.
"Hey, um, Aaravos," Callum asks, "My pendant, the one Mom gave me, it's been getting pretty cold-"
The scent of dust and mildew drift past as the mage steps through the doorway. "Ah, here we are," Aaravos says quietly, voice echoing.
Callum follows, wondering if Aaravos even heard him. This is a little more than creepy, he admits. He supposes that being as old as he is, Aaravos must have some creepy things lying around but did he have to put them in the deepest part of the tower?
There is another room beyond the doorway, a round chamber with a domed ceiling.
It is also empty, save for a lone mirror that stretches halfway up the wall. Runes line the edges, glimmering faintly with starlight. Against Callum's skin, the pendant is icy cold, almost burning him.
"A mirror?" Callum asks, looking at Aaravos.
"Correct," Aaravos says, closing the door behind him. "A mirror."
"It's a magic mirror, isn't it?" Callum asks, squinting at the mirror.
Aaravos laughs, and the sound echoes, and re-echoes, strange and discordant.
"What do you think?" Aaravos asks, after the last of the echoes have faded.
Callum steps closer, and finds only himself staring back, Aaravos a distant figure in the background. "It looks like a normal mirror to me."
"It would," Aaravos says, and Callum jumps; he hadn't even heard him move, hadn't seen movement in the mirror. One hand rests on Callum's shoulder as Aaravos leans over him, and taps the glass with a glittering finger. "This mirror shows many things. Things that were, things that are, and some things, that have not yet come to pass."
"Huh," Callum says, staring as the glass seems to ripple from Aaravos's touch. "Is that normal?"
Aaravos smiles, "It is," his other hand comes to rest on Callum's other shoulder, "Now, do you trust me, Callum?"
"I do," Callum says, "You keep asking me that. You know I do."
Aaravos tilts his head, "Look into the mirror, Callum, and tell me what you see."
Frowning, Callum looks and recoils.
His reflection has gray skin, black eyes and black veins that creep towards his neck.
"This-" Callum starts to say and looks past his reflection to where Aaravos stands behind him. Aaravos is a creature of nightmare, gilded in red, crimson eyes gleaming with malice and Callum feels Aaravos's hands tighten on his shoulders.
"Oh, Callum," Aaravos whispers in his ear, and suddenly there is a knife at his throat, cold metal pressing tight against his skin, blood trickling down. "You must understand, little one. Sacrifices must be made."
Callum wakes up screaming.
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!