The door to the library slowly opened, the dim candle light dancing across Warren's face as he peered around the wooden door. Everything was cast with shadows, stacks of books piled so high they had only been a few feet from the angled ceiling. Dust had accumulated in the air, days of not being cleaned granting everything to seem older and more worn.
Warren had never been a fan of the library, as reading and delving into the world of Mages was on the bottom of his list. Well, his Mother's list to be more precise. She had said that if he couldn't even exude the characteristics of a great Mage, then there was no point in him being one. Now, he had to slightly agree with his Mother. The years had gone by with him messing around the Manor, his tutors scolding him and eventually punishing him forcibly. He just hated studying, and would much prefer to practice Magic and go adventuring. Now, even at the ripe age of ten, Warren regretted doing so. Maybe if he had taken the time to study more about Affinities he might not have subconsciously rejected gaining a Storm one. He himself knew how powerful and respected those with a Shifted Affinity were, and even the wealth they could gain.
I really am broken, he managed to think as he fully stepped into the library. He was silent, awaiting for his Father to call out where he was. Before anything happened, a strong gust raced forward and blew Warren's hair back. The door shut, loudly, and a rebound of Mana sent chills down his spine. He knew anywhere what his Father's Magic felt like.
"Come Warren."
A dark figure became visible as the boy peered around a wall of books. His Father was hunched over his favorite desk, stacks of disorganized papers strewn about. Although Warren had witnessed the mess his Father created as he usually worked, nothing compared to what had happened around him this time. Glasses that once held liquid were tossed about on the floor, crumbs of bread on his workspace, and between his legs were a pile of dirty dishes. Warren's eyes went wide as he saw this. Had his Father been living here ever since his Attunement Day?
"Hey son, sorry about the mess. Anyways, come here, I have much to tell you."
Warren hesitated, looking at the beard that started to show on his Father's face. He had known facial hair was not something Families found pretty, and his dad was a stickler for at least looking the part of one. The sight alone had kept Warren standing where he was.
"Please son…"
Warren shook away his bewilderment and raced to his Father's side, tears racing down his cheeks like a river. Aarin smiled as he scooped up his son and hugged him back with all the love he could muster. Even if he was exhausted, he held the boy suspended in air for an entire minute.
"Dad, I'm so sorry I disappointed you. I'm sorry I rejected it! Im so-"
Aarin began to cry too, his usual stout demeanor in shambles as tears fell from his nose. The droplets dripped onto his tie, the red silk guiding it to the floor as emotions he had bottled up exploded.
"Son, I'm so sorry I left you alone, I just couldn't understand what had happened. You are such a good kid, hell, you would almost be perfect if you studied more."
Warren chuckled at the jab, and his Father looked at him with a weak smile, "But you deserve the world Warren. I don't care if you are fragmented, you are my son and I will always love you."
His sadness swirled, and anger began to boil beneath his skin,
"Your Mother knows nothing. No, that's not enough, that Witch is a babbling wench that deserves to die for all I care."
Warren held his breath as his Father rolled out more insults and threats, a few of them something the young boy didn't even understand. Alas, as his tantrum whittled away, he looked back at his son, "You are my everything, I won't ever leave you unless it keeps you alive."
Warren nodded, "I will never disappoint you again, I promise."
"Good, then we should start immediately." Warren turned in the direction in which the feminine voice had spoken from. Unbeknownst to him, Reina was leaning against one of the many shelves, her hazel eyes flickering in the dim candle light. Warren met her gaze, a plethora of thoughts coming forth.
However, a big soft hand was placed on his head. Aarin kept his smile and spoke, "Don't worry, she is here on my accord. Warren, I think it's time we told you everything."
Reina shook her head, "I shouldn't be doing this either Lord Sky, I hope you keep your end of the deal."
He nodded, "Of course, I am a lord after all, may it be a weak one. Now, Warren…" he wiped away his tears, "This is your reality. Fragment Affinities are immensely rare, but just because there are probably only a handful in the kingdom doesn't mean they are powerful."
Warren waited for what he knew was coming.
"They are weak, and after looking through many records, history books, and even autobiographies I have noticed but one flaw with what I just said."
Reina decided to finish for him, "Fragment Affinites start off as weak no matter what, but they can gradually grow to become so powerful nations will wage war over one. But it all depends on what the Affinity is and who wields it."
Aarin patted his head again, "However, it undoubtedly leads to how you discover your own power."
Warren frowned as he understood only pieces of what they said, "So I have potential?"
Reina chuckled, "Yes and no. You have so much potential that the possibilities are endless. But as the saying goes, "The deeper the ocean, the darker it gets." It's as if you have nothing and everything at your fingertips."
A confused look was plastered on the boy's face as he looked between his Father and Reina. He was still unsure of what this was all leading to.
"Warren, you cannot stay here, as your Mother has told her underlings that you will be killed on the spot if you are found within this Manor after spring."
Warren's heart sank. He hated his Mother, that was plain as the dew drops in the morning, but deep down he wanted her to realize he was worth something. On that note worth anything.
Three weeks ago, it was clear that it would never come into fruition. His Mother was cold, so cold she didn't even let him address her as his own parent. Sometimes she would even go as far as to keep her distance, the only motherly thing she ever did was discipline him. That. Was. It.
However, it never reached past that. Beatings were plenty but that was the line she had drawn herself, anything more severe not even worth her time in her eyes. But to have a death warrant out for him was different. The feeling of hatred was no longer there, instead, Warren was scared. He was ten, he had no Affinity that could be named, and his Father was practically enslaved by his Mother.
Warren was alone in the sense that if his Mother wanted him dead, no one would stop her. His eyes started to become wet, and his breath thinned as he feared for his life.
Aarin flicked him on the forehead, bringing his wild thoughts to a hush,
"I told you I will never leave you son, but circumstances like this are more president, especially if it harbors your life as a trade." He pushed his chair back and stood,
"So, Reina here will take you for three years and teach you the ways of Magic. Although it will only be the foundation any Mage must master to become strong."
Warren turned his attention to the short woman glaring at him, her counter gaze digging into his soul. She hesitantly looked away, almost forgetting that Warren was merely a boy. Instead of throwing more daggers, she smiled,
"I will do my best, but know now that I cannot promise anything. Fragment Affinites are as complex as an Eighth Order Rune."
Warren blinked rapidly, "An eight order what?"
Reina frowned, "What's the most confusing thing you can think about?"
The boy absently surveyed the room, but before he could open his mouth to answer Reina spoke first, "Now times that by eight. Each Order demands a higher ring, even someone as great as myself hasn't successfully made one." She pushed off the shelf, "Anyways you will learn about all that later when we get there, but right now you have a choice to make."
Warren stiffened at her words, not knowing he had a decision to think about, right now he felt like they had decided for him already. He turned to his Father who was holding an aged book. Its leather worn and strange symbols written in a circle that wound down to a spiral.
"You can either become strong, or stay weak Warren. That is the choice you have to make. Your Mother will want you dead otherwise, and even if you do become worthy in her eyes, until you surpass her in power she will have say over what your life entails."
He swallowed hard, "I'm sorry your old man is weak. If I had any say, that wench would be beh-"
Warren broke out in a small fit of laughter, making both Reina and his Father watch him in surprise. After the boy's scene died down, he became deadly serious. He may be young, but he wasn't an idiot. The ten year old looked up at his Father,
"I want to become strong, strong enough that no one will ever believe I was once weak."
Reina whistled, "A strong ideology off the bat huh, you might just be perfect."
Aarin seemed pleased with Warren's statement and squatted down to be on eye level with his son, "Thank you Warren."
His son was taken aback by the statement. If anything, Warren should be the one thanking his father. For the past month he had lost his spark to be the playful kid he always had been, and instead he had opted for being lost and full of depression. Roaming the halls as storms raged on outside. The entire time he was lost, his Father had been tucked away in the library, probably finding a way for Reina to accept the deal and understand what Warren's condition was. His heart fluttered just at the thought, and he almost hugged him again if not for a waft of dust hitting his face. Then followed by his hands clasping around leather.
Warren coughed and glared down at the item in his hand. It was the book his Father was holding before, and flipping it over he read the title.
A Fragment in Time, A Journey of Worthlessness.
Warren stared at the title, a warmth coming forth as he held the aged book. After a moment or two, Warren spoke up, "What is this?"
Aarin smiled nice and big, "It's a journal about a man with a fragmented Affinity, if anyone should read it, it should be you. Might find out the two of you have something in common."
Warren furiously nodded, even if he had no love for books, something about it had drawn him in. So he tucked it underneath his armpit and bowed, "Thank you Father, for everything."
Aarin patted his head, "No thank you son."
There it was again, his Father thanking him for seemingly doing nothing. All Warren had done was cry, and in the spur of the moment he blurted out his thoughts,
"Why do you keep thanking me Father, I have done nothing worthy of it."
His Father caught his son's gaze. In the silence, Warren had noticed that he seemed older and thinner. Had it been since he spent a month in almost complete darkness? Despite him noticing, the dark crescents under his eyes seem to dissolve away,
"Because Warren, you gave me something anyone could be grateful for."
Warren cocked his head in confusion, "What?"
Aarin stood tall and looked out of the only window of the library, heavy rain pelting the window in unrest. He watched calmly, his blue eyes shining with determination,
"Hope."