Child of White, Soul of Black

I hit writers block on Hourglass, and you know what they say: "When thou hath reached writer's block, if the block be too high to scale, and thy characters too pooped to break it, createth new ones."
So, here we are, a "what if". I already have a very long story about some children of Raistlin's in the works, but that's another modernized one, and their histories are way different. So here it is, my first "Krynnish" fic! It's supposed to be short, but we all know how long that's gonna last. Okay, enjoy!

I grew up in the temple in Palanthas, I knew little else. I knew the white walls that I found bright and comforting, I knew all the acolytes and masters and all those who came regularly, and I knew the influence of Paladine that my mother so loved. I grew in his light, a young child, loving him and needing no other. I loved the light.

When Elistan passed on, my mother took his place, returning from some tale that I hear whispers of but is never told to me. I can read and write, one of my favorite pastimes is rooting through the great library, despite some of the looks I get for it. Maybe I'll find something one day…

I've never met Astinus, but I plan to, someday. I'm still pretty young, afterall.

The temple is always full of people, which was always good, before. I like people. Aside from maybe a few shifty looks here and there, everyone in the temple has always been kind to me, saying how intelligent or beautiful I was. When I was younger, sometimes visitors would bring me sweets, telling me how good I was. Sometimes it became difficult to stay humble before Paladine's eyes.

My mother, every night, would tell me how handsome I was. I don't know what she's talking about, she's never seen me before. The acolytes tell me she wasn't always blind, but when I ask about it they simply say it was an accident, and say no more on the subject. I grew up under Paladine's light, and knew little else.

And only Paladine knows my secret.

It was the day I turned twelve that things finally began to shift from white to gray. It was late, and I was about to turn in when my mother came to me.

"Fayard," she said, "come to me, let me look at you."

I knew now what she meant, unlike before. She lay her hands on my face, tracing over the features she knew so well. Tracing over my high cheekbones, speaking my features aloud, over my eyes and down my jaw to a slightly jutting chin, down to a thin neck and slender shoulders. She took my hands, already long and slender, into her own.

"Tell me again, Fayard, what color is your hair?"

"Like auburn, but darker, Mother." I replied, used to this conversation.

"And your eyes, tell me of your eyes."

That caught me off guard. She had never asked of my eyes, never. I always assumed she never cared. But I could see it on her face clearly now, she had always wanted to know. I didn't know what to say.

"Gray, like yours, Mother." There, I lied to her again. I had begun to do that often, and each time it was like a knot twisting in my stomach, but it always faded. Besides, I didn't want her fretting about it like all the others.

"Ah," she nodded, and for a split moment, I thought she knew. "You look like your father." she whispered sadly, gently brushing a lock of wavy hair behind my ear. With that, she departed. I stood there, unable to move.

She had never mentioned my father before. No one had.

My mind was racing as I headed off to my room. No one ever spoke of my father, and I had never asked, mainly because, I realized suddenly, I had never cared. But why mention it now? Did she know? Did she or the others know what I searched for in the library? Did they know what I could do? Did he have anything to do with it? I shook my head and shut the very thought of my sire out of my mind.

My room was small, but comfortable and all my own. I lay on my bed, tired but not sleepy. My mind kept wandering backwards…

You look like your father…

I jumped to my feet and threw open the window, I needed air. I looked out into the city, my eyes sweeping across the street. I had never asked about my father, and why should I? He obviously doesn't care any more than I do, or else he would be here. Where was he then? Why did I care all of the sudden…?

My eyes suddenly fell upon the Tower, rising up above the buildings. I had always known it was there, and secretly, I had always gazed at it from afar. It was strangely beautiful, in its own twisted way, and complemented the temple well. The perfect balance. Sometimes, on clear nights, I swear I could see through all the darkness that shrouded the Tower to a window, in which a figure would stand, and I would watch him. Part of me thought that, maybe, he was watching me too.

But that was silly. As far as I knew, only the Master of the Tower resided there, and what possible interest could a Dark Elf have in me, the bastard son of a cleric of Paladine?

Yet, tonight, I suddenly felt a pull at my heart. I couldn't explain it, and before I knew what I had done, I was wandering through the streets of Palanthas in the middle of the night, towards the Tower.

I could feel the effects of the grove the moment I rounded the corner to the Tower. I'm still surprised I didn't bolt right there, as I have never been known for bravery, but I pushed myself forward, fighting the fear that was racing through me. Maybe it was the fact I was too busy arguing with my thoughts to notice how scared I truly was.

'What am I doing here? What darkness is pulling me?'

And why, aside from the effects of the grove, was I not afraid?

I was at the edge of the grove, my heart racing so fast I thought I would drop. The trees were dark and still, nothing moved. It was as though the world was holding its breath, and yet, through the pounding sound of silence, I could hear the grove calling me, inviting me to my death.

…Fayard……Fayard…

I wanted into that tower. I had to get into the Tower, and I didn't even know why. But there was no way in. The moment I stepped into the grove, I was done for. The darkness would claim me, demons and ghosts would tear me to shreds and feast upon my flesh. Even if I could get through, more guardians would await me, and if not, an angry Dark Elf who probably didn't like trespassers.

I was suddenly very angry, frustrated, and tired. At a loss. Tears were suddenly rolling down my face, and I screamed.

I wailed into the darkness that answered me back, and I ran.

I ran through the streets, tears from an unknown well blinding me, but I kept running. I ran until I reached the temple, to my open window I had apparently crawled out of, and into my room. I slammed the window shut and fell to my knees, sobbing.

What darkness! What horrible darkness!

And I had nearly let it take me. I gazed out the window to the Tower, to the window I could not see. No one was there.

I climbed into my bed, burying my face within the hard pillow. No more tears came, and I had forgotten why I had shed them.

But had I known in the first place?

Rmmble Rmmble…crash!
Aha! The evil writer's block is vanquished! Let us ride forth to…Camelot! er…Hourglass! Yeah, that's it…
It's late, and I'm supposed to be in bed again.
Shut up.