1
The North
“The north, a snow-covered land with mountains so high they reach the heavens and ancient fortresses that guard the last frontier known to man. Beyond these are only endless forests and an even harsher winter.”
“And farther from the woods?” the boy asked with expectant eyes as he curled up on his bed, trying to protect himself from the cold emanating from the stone walls.
“If you already know the story by heart...” His mother was reading an old book with few but thick pages stained brown.
“But I like the way you tell it, especially the part where... Aahgg.” Before he could finish, a terrible headache hit him. He was not surprised; it was not the first time it had happened to him. Since he could remember, he had lived with constant attacks. No matter how many doctors saw him, they could not find the cause or a cure.
Over time it became a habit, and no one in the family cared what happened to him except for his mother and sister. He simply became another sick child with no chance of inheriting the position of head of the family or contributing anything.
He was not the only one who suffered. His mother’s reputation fell irretrievably as she gave birth to another sick offspring, his sister, who grew weaker and weaker with the passing of the years and now, at the age of eight, had difficulty standing. Rumors spread, and she was now being called the “cursed woman.”
“Calm down, Ezer... calm down... close your eyes and don’t think about the pain.” She caressed his head while whispering a song from a poem whose author had been forgotten over the years.
“Mother... It hurts, it hurts a lot.” It wasn’t just the pain, but also the torment of living with attacks all his life and not knowing when they would happen.
“Tell me what you see.”
“I don’t know, it’s always blurry... castles so tall they seem to reach the clouds... dozens, dozens side by side... people, hundreds of them...” Occasionally, strange visions were accompanied by headaches.
“What you see may be a design of the gods, or perhaps one of your past lives,” his mother whispered slowly, trying to get him to fall asleep.
“Past lives?”
“Yes, you know, your mother once met a man who called himself a monk. He came from far away to find inspiration, and he told me about his religion—a very strange one—in which people who died were reincarnated into animals or plants, and if they had done well in their past lives, maybe they could be reincarnated as a person anew.”
“Reincarnated? Weren’t their souls entrusted to Mother Niva?” Ezer grew more excited about the story, making his mother force a smile, though she was trying to do the opposite.
“There are kingdoms with beliefs completely different from ours, kingdoms far away to the south... But that’s a story for another day; now you should sleep, since your pain is over.”
“Fine.” A little reluctantly, Ezer closed his eyes as his mother blew out the candles and left the room.
"His pains are becoming more and more frequent, and my daughter Elira is getting weaker... I’m beginning to wonder if I’m not to blame—maybe I’m cursed..."
Small wrinkles on her face were beginning to appear due to the constant stress. Now her beautiful face, recognized by all, began to fade, and Laira, the lord’s concubine, grew bitter in her thoughts as she walked through the dark corridors lit only by the lamp she was carrying.
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Outside the castle, the winds and snow lowered the temperature well below the point at which the waters froze. The two soldiers who guarded the main door crouched down, trying to absorb some of the heat from a fire, surrounded by stones to prevent the strong winds from extinguishing it.
“Shit, these northern mountain winds are getting colder.”
“No, winter is always just as harsh. It has been every year during the forty-three I’ve lived, and it will continue to be.”
They had been listening to the constant and icy sound of the winds in their ears for hours, but something different caught the attention of one of them.
“...Did you hear that? It’s a carriage.”
“What!? Who is crazy enough to go out at night and in this blizzard!?”
“Because of the four knights who escort them and their flags... I can imagine who it could be.”
“Oh... yes... that man gives me the creeps...”
“Hurry to inform the lord.”
“Yes, I’m on it.”
-----------------------------
The doors opened to the main hall, which had once held great celebrations for victories in war or marriages between families. Its size was enormous—not only the hall; the castle itself was larger than those seen in the capital. Only the royal palace could rival this, which was intended to be an impregnable fortress against the beasts that dwell beyond man’s border. But now it was nothing more than a pile of black rocks with holes between its walls due to decades of wars without subsequent maintenance.
The main chandeliers were lit, and a few sleepy-eyed maids could still be seen lighting candles in the corners. Four knights, two on each side of a person, advanced toward a throne at the end of the hall. The man being escorted stood about 1.90 meters tall, but with a somewhat scrawny build. His skin and eyes, sunken and ringed with dark spots, only served to create a strange—and to some, terrifying—aura around him.
“Greetings, my old friend. I think it was... months or a year? Since we last saw each other face to face.” The man greeted the one on the throne without a hint of respect, nor should he show it, since he—Boron Rolennar, the Viscount—held a position of greater authority.
“Eleven months, to be exact, old friend.” Those words came out of his mouth as if he were swallowing ashes at the same time, especially when saying the last sentence.
“It’s a pity that you couldn’t receive me personally at your doors.” If one is visited by someone of higher authority, it is a sign of respect to receive them personally regardless of whether it rains or snows. But being on his throne was the only thing the lord of these lands could do. Leiner Inmerlan—who, three years ago, while defending the town of the valley a few kilometers from the castle, was injured in the back by a huge bear—was unable to walk properly. They announced to everyone the bravery of their lord, but the truth was different, and people whispered it.
“It’s true, it’s a shame that my legs don’t work like they used to, but I feel like every day I recover my strength.” Leiner frowned; touching this topic was a great taboo, and dishonor always accompanied it.
“I’m sure of it. Well, I’d love to sit down and enjoy a huge, expensive meal from your family... but today, that’s not the point.” The fake smiles ended, and a solemn atmosphere took their place.
“Is there no other way?” A few seconds passed before Leiner spoke again.
“There isn’t... I need your son, Ezer.”
-----------------------------
Ezer’s room was completely dark; only the sound of his breathing was perceptible in the darkness. The door opened softly, and a shadow crossed it. He advanced with hurried steps, a dagger at his waist, hesitated for a few seconds, and positioned himself next to the bed. His hands quickly approached the boy without him noticing.
“Ezer, wake up!” His mother, Laira, shook his body.
“Eh? Mother, what’s wrong?” Ezer noticed the desperation in his mother’s voice and movements.
“There’s no time. Put on your clothes and get ready to go out. We’re leaving the castle.” Laira lit some candles and hurriedly searched the room.
“Why? What’s going on? Mother? Mother!?” Ezer was beginning to get scared; he had never seen his mother like this.
“That damn Viscount is back. Your father didn’t do anything to stop him... No, I’m to blame too.”
Ezer’s body froze when he heard it. Remembering that man made his legs tremble, his face lose color, and he believed that dark eyes were looking at him from behind. But at that moment, warm and gentle hands caressed his cheeks.
“Son, I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” She said it looking directly into his eyes—words to reassure both her son and herself. “We’re running out of time. I have some people who are still loyal to me, but it’s going to be dif—”
Before she could finish the sentence, the door to the room opened.
A man with silver hair and a cane, that supported almost his entire body weight, stopped and looked first at Laira and then at her son before stopping at her again.
“Do you think I’m stupid enough not to know the obvious actions of a mother for her child?” The man was Leiner, the lord of the castle. His face was tired, and he seemed to have aged several years more than he really was.
“He’s your son too!” Laira shouted with fury. She tried to contain herself, but it was in vain; her emotions began to twist, and desperation prevailed.
“And because he’s my son—because he is my son—he must sacrifice himself and save us all!” Leiner also began to raise his voice; if his health had allowed it at this moment, he would have been kicking whatever he found in his way.
“Refuse! Do something! What happened to the Inmerlan—the silver-haired family and the last lineage that still preserves elven blood?!” The ancient elves had silver hair, and the Inmerlan—who have both human and elven blood—also have this feature. Leiner and Ezer, as well as his older half-brother, had silver-white hair like the same snow that falls from the skies.
“It’s on the verge of disappearing! And that boy can save it!” His gaze shifted to Ezer. “Listen to me son, your family may die out. That includes your mother and sister, but if you go with the Viscount and carry out his orders, you can save them.”
Ezer was motionless. He looked at his mother, who began to tear up, recognizing the reality and her helplessness, and then at his father.
“I-I’ll do it... If it’s for my mother and sister... I’m willing to do it.” He was trying to convince himself and face reality, but he couldn’t help the tears forming in his eyes.
“Okay, that’s my son.” He didn’t even bother to call Ezer by name, nor did he intend to. “I’ll be waiting for you in the salon. Don’t be late.” He left the room, leaving behind nothing but silence.
“Ezer... son...”
“Mother... I want to do it, for your sake and Elira’s...” He tried to repress his tears with all his might. His mother, noticing his determination, hugged him and whispered in his ear.
“For 13 years you were my son... and you will be forever. Remember, no matter what darkness you find, go ahead and walk through it. Don’t look for the light... be the light. Guide yourself and whoever accompanies you. Remember that your name means light, Eze’r in the ancient language of the elves.”
“Mother...” Ezer wanted to say a hundred things to his mother, but he expressed them by hugging her even harder.
“Here, it’s a gift from me and your sister. Use it only in emergencies, and when you do, you have to be determined and accept the consequences.” His mother gave him a dagger whose blade was pure black and on whose hilt the initials of Laira and Elira were engraved. “The world is cruel, and there will be times when you must be too, but never accept cruelty. Never be the darkness, because you are light.”
“Yes, Mother, I will never forget your words.” He accepted the dagger, wiping his tears.
“Say goodbye to your sister.”
“No, I don’t want her to see me like this, and I don’t want to disturb her rest either—the cold never suits her. Tell her that she won’t see me leave... but will see me come back.”
“Well, I’ll wait for that day too.” She forced a smile and stroked her son’s hair.
-----------------------------
In front of the closed doors of the great hall, they found Leiner waiting for them to one side, supporting his weight with the cane, with a clear expression of pain and discomfort.
“I want to talk to him for a moment.”
“With your son...” Laira answered with a sharp voice and eyes that reflected resentment.
“Ahh...” A soft sigh escaped Leiner’s lips. “Yes, with my son.” He bowed his head, and when he raised it again, it seemed that all his tiredness had vanished as he advanced with a firm step, without the sound of the cane hitting the ground.
“Child.” Leiner placed his hand firmly on Ezer’s shoulder. “The Inmerlan are proud of your commitment. Remember to represent us with the same level of pride and honor.” Ezer hung his head, disappointed. He wanted a direct compliment from his father, at least once in his life. “Remember, there will be dozens of people who will want to hurt you and will express it openly. Others, on the other hand, will be friendly, waiting for the right moment to stab you in the back. Be especially careful with those vipers.” He seemed to spit out the last words while he was lost in his memories for a second.
“Y-yes... Father...”
“Answer with confidence! They won’t do anything to you... at least at first. We will exchange letters constantly. Do you remember the family code?”
“Yes, from memory.”
Every direct-blood Inmerlan learned as a child a unique family cryptography technique, which had a dozen possible combinations that changed with key symbols. It could be said that it was a language of its own that even the most intelligent took a year of intense learning.
“They’re going to use you for some purpose. Do not believe the excuse that they take you to be your tutors and deepen the relationships between the families.”
At some point during the conversation, Leiner leaned back on his cane, exhausted from pretending to have more strength and from showing his son a strong front.
“This is also an opportunity for us. Learn from them as much as you can—anything works: rumors, or even what foods they prefer. Do not omit anything; I will judge which information is important and which is not.”
“I’m not going to disappoint you, Father.”
Ezer uttered those words to himself as well; this was his chance to be of use to the family and not just lock himself in the library to read old, dust-covered books.
“You won’t. You have my blood; you’re already strong just for that.” With arrogant words, Leiner lightly pushed Ezer toward the hall doors. “Now go ahead and show them that you can walk upright without having someone in front of you.”
Ezer nodded, and after subconsciously looking to his mother for reassurance, he took a deep breath, opened the doors, and crossed the threshold.
“How did we get to this...? Where did we make such a mistake as to not even have the strength to defend our son?” Laira approached her husband, taking his arm and helping him distribute his weight.
“It started many years ago, but it was this.” Leiner strongly and angrily grabbed one of his legs. “Which ended up condemning us. I was not—or am not—able to overcome this.”
“Come on, let’s follow him. Only pride can show on our faces.”
Laira and Leiner walked together in perfect harmony, crossing the threshold just like their son. It was imperceptible that one leaned on the other; you could only see the lord and lady of the castle walking with perfect dignity.
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The few knights of the family were lined up in two rows, swords at their chests held in both hands, creating a corridor in the hall through which Ezer and his parents advanced. The atmosphere was so heavy it was almost palpable. His older brother stood motionless in a corner, watching them pass.
“Child! Time has passed, and I see that you are growing magnificently! Your hair gives away the family you belong to.” Ezer trembled slightly, but he pulled himself together and greeted the Viscount with his hand on his chest and a slight bow. From now on, his orders would determine the fate of his life.
“It is an honor to see you again, my lord; I will be at your disposal.” The Viscount’s icy gaze penetrated to his bones.
“Well, I see you at least taught your son some manners.”
“Of course—it’s my pride after all,” Leiner replied.
“Oh... Pride? Then why are you giving me your pride?” Leiner’s face distorted with humiliation and fury in response to the Viscount’s words.
“It is... an honor that my son is under the tutelage of Viscount Boron. I am sure he will learn a lot.” He could taste blood in his mouth after saying those words.
“I don’t have much time, so let’s go, boy. Follow me and get in the carriage.” Boron turned and headed for the exit doors, without responding to the fortress owner’s courteous farewell.
“Goodbye, son.” His mother placed a heavy cloak made of animal skins over Ezer to protect him from the wind and cold.
She had thousands of things to tell her son, but she knew she didn’t have time; everything important had already been said.
“Goodbye, Mother.” Ezer walked through the gates and was buffeted by the frigid wind and snow. He had never liked leaving the castle very much; because of his attacks, no one demanded much of him, and they just ignored him. He spent his time reading books in the huge library that his ancestors left behind. But he did not know that in the future the snow would be his bed and the wind his lullaby.
And so Ezer took his first step into his dark destiny, which he would illuminate on his own—with help and betrayal, love and death.
