The young boy stops behind the trunk of the tree nearest him, watching the three people ahead of him with curiosity. A dimple forms on the boy's left cheek as he smiles, watching his older brother with pride. One day, he wants to be just like that.
Little does he know, this will be the last time he smiles or ever wants to be anyone else again.
The group is being led by a tall man with long black hair that is held neatly back in an elastic, with the length of his raven colored locks reaching down to his shoulder blades. He wears a black band over his forehead with the outline of a raven engraved into the silver plate that covers his forehead, followed by one slash beside the bird to symbolize his ranking.
When the man turns his profile to Reza, his pale grey eyes scan the tree that he hides behind, unable to see his youngest brother hiding there. Reza knows him well enough to suspect that he might be able to sense him, though.
Tarsis and his squad mates are on a mission, and if Reza is seen shadowing them, he will surely be punished not only by his brother, but by his father, as well. An A ranked mission is no place for a twelve year old to be fooling around in the shadows. Getting in the way of the Elite would be looked upon as a sin in the village, but even if he were seen, Reza has no doubt that Tarsis would protect him from the wrath of their father.
Protect him, he thought.
The sun is beginning to set, casting an orange and red glow onto the three squad mates as they pause for a rest, having been running since this morning.
This always happens so fast, and no matter how bad he tries, Reza cannot change the outcome. And he's tried. He's tried so hard, but it stays the same one way or another.
One minute, the three are catching their breath in friendly silence, and the next Tarsis is drawing the sword from the scabbard on his back with silence of a predator.
Reza screams his brother's name but no sound leaves his lips as he watches from behind the tree, unable to make himself move.
Before the other two people have time to even touch their own weapons, they are both run through and left in puddles of their own blood.
Tarsis turns now, the blood of his friends smearing his face and dripping crimson from his sword. He smiles as he slowly comes towards his younger brother, stopping beside the tree that once concealed him from the eyes of others. Now he feels over exposed as his brother looks down at him with piercing gray eyes and a malicious grin.
"You should have stayed at home, little brother." He whispers, before arching his blade down upon the boy's neck.
Reza wakes with a start, flying upright in his bed. The small, dark apartment is filled with his ragged breathing, but these walls are all too used to seeing this happen and the neighbors are accustomed to hearing the scream of the name Tarsis in the dead of night.
Of course, they all know about Reza and his family, but none of them are ever brave enough to come check on the young man. Every morning the apartment is empty, so they always assume that he is alright and was simply having a nightmare.
On the rare occasion, there will be a casserole at his doorstep when he comes home, usually with a note attached, asking for the clean dish back and the apartment number of the owner. Never once does anyone ask him if he is okay, but he is alright with that. He wouldn't answer his door if anyone knocked, anyway. No one is allowed to see him so weak.
Reza slowly gains control of his breathing again, ignoring the thumping of a broom handle on the ceiling below him as he runs his hands over his sweat dripping face. A tickle runs down the hairs on his arm, drawing his attention to the pain that is evident in the area. Running his hand over the opposite forearm, Reza pulls it away smeared with a dark colored liquid. Frowning, he leans over to flick on his bedside lamp.
Blood trickles down his arm and onto his shirt, staining the grey material red. After a moment of staring at it, he realizes that he must have pinched himself awake, much harder than necessary. That same dream happens so often that Reza's body has gotten into the habit of waking itself up by squeezing the skin of his arm between his fingers, often with more force than needed.
With an estranged sigh, Reza untangles his legs from the sheets of his bed and pads to the bathroom, flicking on the light as he goes. He turns on the sink and washes the blood from his arm, trying to think about anything but the dream he just had. Reza can handle almost anything, but the delusional specter that visits him every night has a way of unnerving him like nothing else can.
Despite the cool temperature of the night, a bead of sweat rolls down his back, between his shoulder blades, and his black hair sticks to his skin with dampness. He hadn't even turned the heat in his flat on tonight, but he still feels light headed with warmth, his pale cheeks touched with the pink of burning fingers.
When the world wavers, he resorts to panting slightly and reaches to yank his t-shirt over his head in attempts to cool off. He just tosses the shirt to the floor when the dinner that Reza had eaten hours earlier rolls in his stomach, threatening to make a reappearance. He suddenly has to dart to the toilet behind him before anything can spew out on the newly cleaned floor.
Tarsis is nothing like the recurring nightmare depicts, and that isn't even how the slaughter took place. Reza was never there to see what happened between his brother and his squad mates, but his mind seems to have found it a good idea to conjure up a fake memory of the incident. Even if he was present, Reza is positive that Tarsis would never have done what he did in the dream. Not to him. He would have taken him with and not left him here. Here all alone.
Reza flushes the bile down the toilet without looking and pulls himself off of his knees, stumbling to the sink to splash cold water on his face and neck.
After washing the sour taste out of his mouth, he turns off the tap and lets the liquid drip off of his skin as he looks at himself in the cracked mirror, taking in his ashen complexion. Dark purple circles press bruises under his eyes, and he reaches to absently touch the healing split on his lip, recalling Rowan's anger earlier that day. Reza looks more haggard than any fourteen year old has the business to.
So rarely does Reza observe his reflection, that he is actually startled for a moment when he sees his own eyes. It is moments like this when he realizes why people tend to avoid his gaze- such pale colored orbs should belong to a blind man, but instead they are as clear as the night sky on the face of a young person. Being framed by thick, dark lashes only amplifies the effect, but Reza is not ashamed of his eye color. He wears it with pride and with the knowledge that the shades of his hair and eyes are something that his father could never change about him.
Reza doesn't make a habit of looking at himself, because he knows how alike he and Tarsis are in physical appearance. The length of his raven hair is no where near that of his brothers, as he purposefully keeps it cut short.
He never could understand how Tarsis could stand his hair being so long, but even with it's length he was still masculine looking. Tarsis was all tall, broad and imposing, with all sorts of girls vying for his attention. He always ignored them, especially when Reza was with him.
Reza can't remember a time when his brother's hair wasn't long, and part of him wonders if he keeps it that way, even now when he is on the run. As he uses the only hand towel he owns to dry his face, he tries to envision Tarsis with short hair.
Reza rummages through the small bathroom in search for the first aid kit that comes equipped with each apartment flat, glancing around at the white, cracked tile of the bathroom. He recalls seeing it beneath the sink, and squats down to sift through the boxes of toothpaste and rolls of toilet paper that make up the cupboard's contents. He finds the red box at the back and pulls it out, keeping the hand towel wrapped loosely around his forearm to avoid dripping crimson on the floor. The laminate may be yellowing and peeling upwards in places, but Reza already cleaned once this week and isn't fond of the idea of having to do it again so soon.
Reza sets the kit on the sink and takes the towel he had pressed against his arm, bringing it closer to his face to try a decide if it really needs a bandage. It is a small injury, but as it continues to leak scarlet, Reza is reminded to cut his finger nails. His arm throbs angrily as he wipes the hand towel over it again. The skin around the wound had turned dark shades of purple and red from the force of the pinch, and the boy mentally scolds himself for being so reckless.
With a reluctant sigh, he opens the box and thumbs through the varies supplies, picking out an alcohol wipe and continuing to search for a suitable bandage. What sort of first aid kit doesn't have bandages? He finds some packaged gauze and settles for it, pulling it out along with a strip of medical tape before packing the box back beneath the sink.
Reza opens the alcohol pad and swipes it across his skin, allowing himself to suck in a breath against the sting. After a moment of sitting with his eyes squeezed shut, he mops up the rest of the blood from his skin before tossing it into the garbage can beside the toilet. While doing so, he notices the bright scarlet stain on the porcelain bowl where his wound had brushed it, and promises to wipe it up later.
He peels the wrapper away from the gauze and presses the bandage to his arm, reaching for the tape to keep it in place. He wraps it tightly around his arm before smoothing the free edges down, securely into place.
Reza cleans the blood from his toilet with the stained towel and exits the shabby bathroom, flicking the light off as he goes.
He shucks the towel into a bag with the rest of the dirty laundry, reminded that he needs to make an trip into town soon, before he runs out of clean clothes to wear.
Standing in the center of his home, he allows his eyes to roam through the shabby flat while attempting to regulate his body temperature with his energy. He feels it flow just beneath the skin, and he focuses on using it to shove the heat out.
This place is a shack compared to the Leofwin mansion, but he prefers the silence to his father. Luckily, being the head of a clan takes up most of his time, so he never had to see him a lot growing up. Not that Adelard had any desire to see his son at any point in his life, anyway.
Casting a longing look at his bed, Reza comes to the conclusion that he won't be sleeping again tonight, at least for a while, even though the red numbers of the clock on his nightstand reads 2:12 a.m. With a sigh, he crosses the main room to one of the two windows in his flat and opens it, stepping fearlessly onto the ledge. He has his back to the lights of the village and mounts the exterior of the building, hands and feet easily finding nooks and crannies to use to climb the height. He passes silently by several other windows as he moves steadily towards the roof three floors above.
In less than a minute the boy has reached the top of the complex and lowers himself into a seated position on the cool metal of the roof. Reza often comes here at night when sleeplessness plagues him, just looking out at the quiet village. It calms his nerves knowing that the world outside is at rest. Watching the restful village makes him feel like a real guardian, and it reminds him of his importance to Edan.
The moon over head is full and bright, casting silver light onto the Leofwin's skin and hair. The trees carry a chilled breeze to his skin and raises the damp hair from his forehead, bringing bumps to his bare chest and arms. Reza relishes the feeling, allowing the nipping temperature to cool the fire that rages inside of his bones.
He releases a deep breath and tilts his head to look up at the clear sky, counting the abundant amount of stars in his head and clearing his mind of any lingering thoughts of the night terror. Instead, he focuses on his brother as he knew him- a kind smile and a caring face. That is how he wishes he could always imagine his brother, though he knows that side of Tarsis is one that only he got to see. Every one else in Edan got to see the mask that he wore in public, the professional glaze that their father set into place. Reza got to see his smile. His real face.
There is a few minutes of silence before soft voices are heard below, drifting with the breeze to Reza's ears. Curious, he silently shifts positions to peer over the edge of the roof in search of the owners of the noise.
Anyone else wouldn't have been sharp enough to catch the lowered tones, but Reza has more unique attributes than just the color of his eyes.
He finds himself annoyed to see the silhouettes of who he knows to be Caledon, and who he assumes is Rowan beside him, judging by the way he walks- arms raised behind his head, walking with an easy, lazy sort of lope.
Reza stays as still as a shadow as the two pause their walk and look up. Not far enough to see him on the roof, but they crane their necks up to his open window on the third floor.
Reza feels his brows draw together and the bridge of his nose pinches slightly. What are they doing here? Caledon doesn't live nearby, and this complex isn't on the way to his home. What are they doing out so late, anyway? It has to be two thirty by now and they have practice in a few hours.
Reza listens silently as they begin to speak again, voices soft so not to wake anyone in the apartment.
"He lives here? I thought he-" The voice is undoubtedly Rowan's, and he sounds surprised. His figure lowers his arms as he soaks in the exterior of the old, cracking building.
"Lived at the Leofwin mansion? He did, until his father disowned him," Caledon explains wistfully, hands in his vest pockets. "Even there he didn't have a good life. He was treated as a slave for the household."
Reza's fingers tighten on the end of the roof top, the metal biting into his skin, muscles twitching with irritation. Why is he telling Rowan these things? He has no right to know. He fights the urge to leap down in front of them and has to fight to keep himself still.
"Oh... I had no idea. I knew his brother taught him things, but I didn't know he was so mistreated by the rest of his family," Is Reza imagining it, or does Rowan sound apologetic? "He must have worked hard to get so good. He didn't have anything handed to him like I thought, did he?"
Caledon shakes his head, looking down at the student. "No, he didn't. He has it even harder than you do. He lost his mother, like you lost your father- you two might have more in common than you think, Rowan."
Reza stands from his perch on the roof top and leaps down, careful to focus his energy near the pads of his bare feet. He lands on his window sill before dropping down the rest of the way, landing smoothly in front of Rowan and Caledon.
"When I said, 'whatever helps you sleep at night', this isn't what I meant." Reza says, glaring at Caledon, though he addresses Rowan. His feet sting a bit from the impact of the ground, and the first sign of a shiver runs through him. He suppresses both the pain and the cold, smoothing them over with an expression of annoyance.
Rowan's hair is white in the moonlight, but his eyes appear to be as black as coal, glinting in the night. For once, the boy doesn't respond right away, just stands with his hands in his pockets. He holds Reza's gaze, though not in a challenging way.
Reza can see the scratches on the boy's arms and face- one on his cheek glistens with blood from a deeper wound. He is curious as to why he is so beaten up, but doesn't ask. That would imply that he cared.
When Rowan finally opens his mouth, his words aren't what Reza expects. His voice is still arrogant, but the tone is softer than usual. "What happened to you?"
Reza doesn't glance down as he moves his left arm behind his back, out of view. "Nothing," His voice is hard. "What are you two doing here?"
"A better question is why you were on the roof at this time of night," Caledon retorts. With nothing but a harsh glare from pale, burning eyes, the mentor explains with a sigh. "We were training late, and I took Rowan to dinner for working so hard. As his mentor, I felt the need to walk him home to explain to his mother why he has been out at such an hour. This road is a short cut to his house."
"How do you know I live here?" Reza asks, tone no lighter than before. In truth, he is glad that Rowan is staying late to have their teacher train him privately, and wonders how the spiky haired boy is doing so far. Reza lets his gaze drift to Rowan again briefly, surveying his injuries.
Caledon shrugs nonchalantly. "I've followed you before." Is his open reply.
Reza returns his gaze to the mentor and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He hardly has to wonder why Caledon followed- of course he's been keeping an eye on him. "Of course you did. You have a knack for shadow cloaking, don't you? I wouldn't have noticed."
Rowan scrunches his face, looking to the man beside him quizzically. "What's shadow cloaking?"
Reza looks to Cale, assuming that he will give the short lesson, but the Crow looks just as expectantly back at him. With a vexed sigh, Reza turns to Rowan with a frown tugging the corners of his mouth. He would know this if he'd paid attention in class while in the Academy. "Shadow manipulation is reserved to the Cager clan, right? Well certain traits are restricted to a specific person. Shadow cloaking is the ability to follow someone with your shadow. It makes no noise and because it has no eyes to look directly at you, many people can't sense they're being followed."
"Take Reza, for instance," Caledon cuts in, gesturing with one hand to the Leofwin boy. "His eye and hair color is distributed throughout his clan, correct? All of their eyes see things ours don't notice, tiny details easily over looked. That's why he is such a good tracker- he can notice the slightest disruption of a leaf or branch."
Rowan glances to the boy across from him, brows drawing slightly. "I know that, Cale. Everyone knows about the Leofwin clan and their abilities. That's why no one picks fights with Reza,"
"Except for you." Caledon puts in with a chuckle, but Rowan ignores him.
"He's quick enough to dodge all of their attacks and smart enough to judge all of their moves before they're made. That's what he was doing to me earlier."
"I'm pleased that you noticed," Cale says, a small smile playing his lips. "Contrary to popular belief, you catch on quickly after all, Rowan."
Reza watches Caledon with wary eyes, trying to get a feel for just how much he has figured out about him. He seems to know quite a bit already, and it makes him uneasy. He is beginning to think that he wasn't placed under this Crow's charge by accident.
"I'm sorry," Rowan blurts after a moment of silence, then gestures to Reza's face, where his lip is split. "About that." He seems genuine, so Reza regards him carefully without a word. He's changed his attitude quite a bit in a few hours. Just how much has Caledon told him?
"Why are you out here half naked, anyway? It's the middle of Autumn," Caledon changes the subject, observing Reza's bare chest and sweat pants. "I can see you shaking."
Reza is a bit skinny for his age, but well muscled compared to the rest of the Sparrows. He folds his arms over a broadening chest and raises a dark eyebrow, unashamed of his nakedness. This man is far too nosy. "If it was your business, you would know," Reza's forearm pulses angrily, but he shows no sign of pain on his stoic face, just clenches his jaw the slightest amount. Caledon notices the small action, but doesn't comment on it.
Reza narrows his eyes at Caledon and turns his attention to Rowan, who had been looking at the complex in front of him. "You should go, your mother must be worried about you." The dirt road is soft and cool beneath his feet as he speaks.
Rowan swipes his bleeding cheek with his shoulder, glancing to meet Reza's gaze.
"Yeah, you're right," He grins, back to his old self. "I'm pretty tired after training so hard, anyway."
"We'll see you in the morning, Reza. You should try to get some sleep." Caledon says, turning to walk away slowly. The mentor suspects that the boy must have been dreaming of his brother, due to the circles beneath his eyes and the paleness of his skin. The Crow knows more about Reza than either of these boys really understand.
"It is morning." Reza mumbles with a roll of his eyes. He turns his back to them and heads towards the complex. Caledon half expects him to use the doors several yards away to get back in, but instead he pushes from the ground and leaps from one windowsill to the next until he is crouched on his own. He turns his profile to look back at the two below, the night breeze blowing hair across his forehead.
Reza and Rowan lock eyes for a beat, speaking without words. The Leofwin boy can see the apology in his squad mate's dark orbs and tips his head in a subtle nod, causing the spiky haired boy to break into a half grin. He got a reaction from him. That's all he really wanted.
Rowan watches Reza disappear into the dark apartment flat before following after his mentor, legs protesting with exhaustion. "So, he really does live in that dump, doesn't he? I thought you might have been joking."
Caledon looks straight ahead as he walks, eyes far away. "No, I wasn't joking. Not about anything I said."
Rowan looks over his shoulder, back at the crumbling, ivy covered building. So, that is the housing given to Sparrows without a home. The title itself brings in a bit of money, but hardly enough to support one person on, so the government gives housing to the few young people without a roof to call their own. By the looks of it, Reza isn't given any money by his family, either. Not from his father, or even from one of his siblings... Just a fourteen year old thrown out into the world on his own with no help.
Rowan tightens his hands into fists at his sides, feeling anger spark in his belly. Adelard Leofwin is a coward and a snake. He won't even give his youngest son an allowance to live off of? What kind of parent would do that to their own child? It isn't as if the Leofwin clan is short of money, especially not the head family. Rowan has seen the family home towering above all the others on the south side of the city, and it is nothing short of impressive. To think that Reza used to live there... His bed room was probably a broom closet, at least compared to that of the rest of the family. What would one man and four children do in a home that size, anyway? And now the place must be beyond lonely, with only two children and one man left living inside of the walls.
Casting one last look at the disappearing apartment building, Rowan can't help as his feelings towards Reza change. This boy is nothing like he thought he was.
~
Author's Note
Thank you guys for reading, I'm glad that this book is getting more attention than I expected! I hope you guys keep reading. Please keep in mind that this is all unedited.
Not a super eventful chapter, but it helps you get a better feel for the characters and their personalities. Thanks for the comments on the last chapter, and I hope to hear some more from you guys on this one, too.
I don't know when I'll update again, but I'll shoot roughly for posting within a month or so.
God bless,
-A.