Symbols speak louder than words.
Beneath the Starlit Sky
The next morning, I stumbled into the dining room, still in a semi-zombie state from lack of sleep. Mazen shook his head disapprovingly, a faint smile playing on his lips as he sipped his tea. This time, he was prepared for my attempt to steal his egg. Just as I aimed for it, his plate slid away with lightning speed, leaving me grasping at thin air.
"That's cheating," I protested, pouting slightly. Mazen chuckled softly in response.
It seemed Mazen was starting to enjoy our charade of brotherhood more and more. However, his enthusiasm waned when I bombarded him with questions about the books he had in his collection. He patiently answered each query, likely knowing that if he didn't, my incessant whining would ensue. Yes, whining is cute for a moment, but it quickly becomes irritating.
Most of the day was spent engrossed in learning. Mazen's library contained numerous tomes on dark magic. Books like these were hardly available even in the forbidden section of Babel's library.
Did you know that one of the most notorious dark mages of our time keeps fish? Strange, isn't it? I speculated they were there for companionship; watching them swim had a strangely calming effect on my nerves. The fish lazily glided through the water, occasionally glancing up at me without much interest. I fed them and returned to my reading.
It's true that magic defies simple classification as black or white. For instance, creating familiars or crafting golems falls under the umbrella of black magic, though I admit having a real familiar would be intriguing. As I delved deeper into the subject, I discovered that familiars were once commonplace among mages. They served as repositories for a portion of their master's magic, ready to be called upon when needed. Another reason for their popularity was their unwavering loyalty and obedience to their creator. However, the text also warned of their stubbornness and independent streak, which often caused more trouble than assistance.
"Maaaaaazen," I groaned, interrupting his concentration.
"What is it now?" he replied, lifting an eyebrow inquisitively.
"Make me a familiar," I demanded with a mischievous grin.
Mazen looked genuinely taken aback. "And why do you need one?"
"Because it would be cool," I asserted with a grin.
"You do realize the responsibility that comes with a familiar, don't you?" he countered, his brow furrowing slightly. "They have a mind of their own and can be quite difficult to manage."
"So you won't do it," I concluded with a sigh.
"It's highly unlikely I would comply," he replied. "Besides, a familiar obeys only its creator or someone it chooses. What makes you so sure you'd be the one?"
"Because I am royalty," I declared proudly.
Mazen raised an eyebrow at my proclamation, momentarily taken aback by my assertion.
"And humble as well," he quipped dryly, earning a chuckle from me.
"What are you working on today?" I asked, changing the subject.
"A coat of arms," he replied simply.
"A coat of arms?" I echoed, puzzled.
"All kings have their own heraldic symbols," he explained patiently. He fetched a book from the shelf and opened it before me. "This is the coat of arms of Crimson."
You'd expect a vampire to have a coat of arms with a bat on it, or something like that. But on this one was a strong, yet graceful, long-necked bird. The bird chosen as the heraldic animal both radiated danger and was beautiful to the eye. It had golden feathers, and between the talons of one of its raised legs, it held a heart that had been torn out. He was standing with one foot on a skull, with human skeletons underneath. One look at the emblem spoke volumes of its eerie beauty and ominous aura.
"And this is Titania's coat of arms," Mazen continued, pointing to another page.
What could be more fitting for fae than a unicorn standing on two feet? To add to the effect, let's make it two! Of course, the representative of the moon folk must be silver. And in case you can't work out exactly who you're dealing with, there was an enamel full moon shining between the two unicorns. The symbol was quintessentially fae-like, unmistakably representative of the moon folk.
He turned a few more pages to reveal the coat of arms of the Sorcerer Lord, depicting a magnificent stag with unrealistically long antlers lying in repose. I liked Livius' emblem the most.
"And the King of the Dwarves," Mazen added, pointing to the last entry, which featured a massive boar with formidable fangs.
"Why animals?" I queried, intrigued. "I thought the dwarves might use a hammer or some other tool of their trade."
"It's tradition," Mazen explained. "Kings choose an animal that best symbolizes their reign."
"Well, it's not always the most fitting," he added and I grimaced.
Indeed not.
As Mazen closed the book, I leaned forward. "So, what animal would you choose for your coat of arms?"
Mazen paused, his gaze thoughtful. "I haven't decided yet," he admitted quietly. "It's a significant decision, one that symbolizes not just power but also responsibility."
I nodded, sensing Mazen's contemplative mood. "It must be strange, being in your position," I mused aloud. "All these expectations, traditions to uphold."
"It's a burden," Mazen acknowledged with a hint of weariness in his voice. "But it's also a privilege."
I studied Mazen for a moment, noticing the lines of tension that occasionally creased his brow. Despite his composed demeanor, I could sense the weight he carried on his shoulders. "Do you ever wish things were different?" I ventured cautiously.
Mazen's eyes flickered with a fleeting emotion, something akin to longing. "Sometimes," he admitted softly. "But I've accepted my role. There's no turning back now."
There is, Mazen. There is always.
"Mazen," I finally spoke, breaking the silence that had settled between us. He looked up from the book he had been studying, his expression a mixture of curiosity and guarded anticipation. For a moment, our eyes met, each searching the other's for unspoken truths.
"If there's anything I can do to help you..." I began, my voice earnest and resolute, "...I'm willing."
Mazen regarded me intently, his eyes narrowing slightly as if weighing my offer against some unseen measure. I held his gaze steadily and smiled.
"I will always be with you, brother."
His eyes widened imperceptibly, and his lips formed a thin line. There was a brief pause, filled with an unspoken tension, before Mazen's expression softened into a dangerous smile. It was predatory, hinting at both amusement and a sharp edge of warning.
"If you break your promise," he said slowly, his voice low and deliberate, "I will kill you."
His words hung in the air, laden with a seriousness that belied the smile on his lips. I felt a chill run down my spine, not from fear but from the weight of the pact we had just forged. Mazen was not one to make idle threats, and his eyes conveyed a depth of conviction that left no room for doubt.
"I understand," I replied evenly, meeting his gaze unwaveringly.
"Good," he said simply, his tone carrying a blend of finality and acceptance.
"But to do that," I added with a mischievous grin, "you should defeat me first."
Mazen's eyebrows raised slightly in surprise, his expression shifting momentarily from seriousness to a flicker of amusement. He leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips.
"Challenge accepted," he responded, his voice tinged with amusement. "Just remember who is one of the most formidable mages alive."
The tension that had filled the room moments ago seemed to dissipate, replaced by a lighter atmosphere tinged with a hint of rivalry.
I look forward to it, I thought, matching his smirk with a confident smile.
(...)
Every time I encountered Felis, I managed to make him mad. He'd come to wake me in the mornings, his job to ensure I didn't oversleep. I was already grumpy enough without someone shaking my shoulders and prodding me relentlessly. He poured a glass of water on me and I jumped out of bed with a scowl, and I threw the covers at him.
"You'll pay dearly for this!" I grumbled through gritted teeth, glaring at him.
After what felt like an eternity of futile resistance, I relented and started getting dressed. As I struggled into my clothes, a mischievous thought struck me.
"Hey, Felis," I began innocently.
"Don't call me that!" he snapped.
"Fine," I said with exaggerated patience, "So, how large is the estate?"
"About four kilometers," he replied warily, clearly anticipating another reckless action.
"Good," I declared nonchalantly, swinging open the balcony door. "I'll be back by lunch."
Felis' eyes widened in shock, then narrowed as he realized I wasn't joking. He rushed towards me, attempting to thwart what he saw as my suicidal leap. Flashing him a grin, I leaped over the banister. His startled yelp echoed behind me so distraught as if he had just fallen instead of me, but that could just be him thinking about what Mazen would do to him if I died. Perhaps to his relief, I landed softly and not with a deathly thud amidst the forest's first trees.
Upon my return, Felis unleashed a tirade that lasted a good half-hour. ("How could you jump from the fifth floor? Are you insane? Do you have a death wish?") I patiently waited for him to run out of breath before calmly asking if he was finished. He promptly launched into another round of chastisement, but I simply sighed and walked away. Lunch was more pressing than his wounded sense of propriety.
At dinner, Mazen was preoccupied with selecting an animal for his symbol. His foul mood discouraged me from attempting to steal any of his food, but I did remind him, with exaggerated urgency, about the cocoa I needed to soothe my withdrawal symptoms.
Initially taken aback, Mazen's wide-eyed expression soon gave way to a few stifled chuckles. Well, it's an exaggeration to say that he laughed, you can't accuse Mazen of that, because he doesn't do that... He just hiccuped a few times which reminded me of laughter. Because I was serious, I took offense. Sensing my genuine irritation, Mazen promised to have one of his servants procure cocoa for me. By the end of the meal, harmony was restored.
Later that night, as the full moon approached, my restlessness grew. Unable to sleep, I ventured onto the balcony, then up to the roof. There, I lay for a while, contemplating life's grand mysteries. Thoughts turned to my friends and when they might visit, likely breaking Mazen's heart in the process.
Mazen, too, seemed unable to find peace. Spotting him on his balcony, I decided to join him. At least we could be bored together. With a graceful leap, I landed next to him, causing him to nearly spill his tea. Grinning mischievously, I raised an eyebrow at his startled reaction.
"What were you doing on the roof?" he inquired, his tone laced with curiosity.
"Sometimes I go up there when I can't sleep," I replied casually.
He hummed in response, a rare sign of acknowledgment. Mazen wasn't one for humming or sighing, especially in the presence of others, making it a small victory for me.
"It's a clear night," I observed, breaking the silence.
Mazen nodded, sipping his tea. He wore a dark blue robe, a stark contrast to his usual striped pajamas visible under the robe's collar. I'd noticed his preference for the same style of sleepwear. No, I didn't peep, it's just that once he opened his wardrobe, I saw he had about ten sets of the same thing.
It's funny that one of the greatest fears of a dark mage is that his hair will encircle his neck at night and strangle him. No, of course, he didn't say it like that, but I put it together anyway. Of course, his fear was irrational, for his hair was not nearly long enough for that, but I dared not prove it to him, for fear that if he found out that I knew his secret, it could invite consequences far worse than a jest.
I wondered if Mazen recognized his growing fondness for me, even as he might deny it to himself. I was certain he did. His mannerisms around me had softened, his demeanor less guarded.
The night air hung still around us, the only sounds were the rustling of leaves and the occasional hoot of an owl in the distance. Mazen stared into the darkness, his thoughts perhaps as restless as mine.
"Do you often find yourself unable to sleep?" he asked after a while, his voice softer than usual.
I shrugged nonchalantly. "More often than I'd like."
He nodded thoughtfully, taking another sip of tea. "I used to think sleep was a luxury I couldn't afford."
I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Mazen's rare glimpse into his past. "What changed?"
"Perhaps realizing that even dark mages need rest," he mused a hint of wryness in his tone.
I chuckled softly. "I suppose even the most formidable have their limits."
Mazen glanced at me, his expression unreadable in the moonlight. "You seem at ease tonight."
"I find solace in the quiet," I admitted, leaning back against the balustrade. "It helps clear the mind."
Silence settled between us again, comfortable and companionable. The moon cast gentle shadows across Mazen's features, softening the stern lines of his face. For a moment, I glimpsed the vulnerability he usually concealed beneath an air of authority.
"Tell me," he began, his voice low, "what do you think of this place?"
I considered his question, gazing out over the sprawling estate shrouded in darkness. "It's grand," I replied honestly, "but it feels empty as if it yearns for life."
Mazen's lips twitched into a half-smile, a rare sight that hinted at amusement or agreement. "It was built for power, not warmth."
"Power can be lonely," I remarked softly.
He nodded, his gaze returning to the horizon. "Indeed," he murmured, almost to himself.
A cool breeze stirred the air, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and earth. I closed my eyes, letting the night embrace me, feeling strangely connected to Mazen in that quiet moment.
Mazen turned his attention back to me, his eyes steady and contemplative. "You're not like anyone I've known," he said with a hint of sincerity that surprised me.
I smiled faintly. "Nor you."
"In what way am I different?" I ventured, meeting Mazen's gaze with genuine interest.
He considered my question for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "You're more honest," he answered quietly, his words weighted with a rare candor. "And you... act normal around me."
I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his observation. "Normal?" I echoed a hint of amusement in my voice.
Mazen's lips twitched in a brief, almost imperceptible smile. "Yes," he affirmed, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Normal, as in... not trying to impress or manipulate. Just... yourself."
I nodded slowly, absorbing his words. "Maybe because I'm not afraid of you," I ventured, meeting his gaze steadily.
"And why is that?" he asked, his tone quieter now, more introspective.
I considered his question carefully, the honesty of the night urging me to speak freely. "Because beneath all the power and darkness, I see someone who's also searching," I replied earnestly.
Mazen's gaze held mine for a long moment, his eyes unreadable yet somehow touched by my words. "Perhaps," he murmured, a note of contemplation in his voice. "Perhaps we are both searching for something."
"And of course you would have a hard time defeating me, brother," I added with a playful grin, breaking the moment with a touch of light-heartedness.
Mazen's lips quirked up in a small, amused smile. "Is that a challenge, then?" he teased, his demeanor shifting slightly as he matched my playful tone.
I chuckled softly. "Maybe," I replied, a glint of mischief in my eyes. "But it wouldn't be much fun if it were too easy, would it?"
He chuckled in response, a genuine warmth in his expression that I hadn't seen before. It was a brief glimpse into a side of Mazen that few others ever witnessed—a side that felt oddly comforting amidst the shadows that surrounded us.
The air between us seemed to hum with unspoken thoughts and uncharted possibilities. In that quiet moment on the balcony, beneath the canopy of stars and the growing light of dawn, Mazen and I found a fragile understanding—an acknowledgment of our shared humanity amidst the complexities of our divergent paths.
The next morning, a cup of cocoa awaited me at breakfast. It wasn't prepared exactly to my liking, but I appreciated the gesture nonetheless.