Isla's dead," he said at last.
Alias's few words broke two things, the silence and Aildris
Like a killer's dagger in the dark, Alias's words logged deep into Aildiris's heart.There was no response from him, as if he had ventured into the same land that had kept Alias mute, the world of despair.
Now everything began to make sense, the pitiful looks, the gossiping servants and the gloomy air.
He didn't even realise when the tears began to stream down his face, instinctively using his sleeves to wipe them from making a mess.
"I need to know what happened, were you there?" Alias added.
He didn't comfort Aildris like a normal father, rather he let the boy grieve, allowing him to be aware that life had taken the one thing that mattered to him. The one thing that made sense in the senseless world he was born into.
" I walked in the room to look for my mother, but rather found Lady Diane arguing with her. The moment I entered she left and then the fire began". Aildris answers him in-between snorts and tears.
"Diane" Alias hissed, jaw clenched.
"Did you see anything unusual as she left, like a gift," he added.
"There was a spark, a small one but it didn't look like a gift" Aildris answered.
"I see".
"You failed her," Aildris muttered looking at Alias.
"Promised to always keep her safe and you failed her. She's dead". His hands trembled from the pent up rage inside of him, he didn't understand why he was angry he just knew he was.
"Dead!" he shouted, emphasizing on the word, his own words bringing more clarity to himself than Alias.
Alias didn't respond,just silence. He knew that Aildris was looking for someone to blame so that his mother's death could have meaning.
Aildris rushed forward and thrashed his arms around Alias's body. His small arms barely reached his father's chest. The blows didn't hurt and didn't budge Alias from where he stood.
He glanced at Aildris whose punches seemed to get weaker with each hit. He was tired, he hadn't fully recovered.
"I know I failed, I let her die" Alias muttered, his deep voice shallow, sapphire blue eyes shaking from horror.
Eventually he stopped, too weak to raise a muscle, too tired to throw a fit. He took one final look at his father and left the room.
As he stepped out of the study he heard a voice beside him say,
"Follow me"
He looked up, the voice was familiar and foreign at the same time, like he had heard it before but the person rarely spoke.
"Luther," he muttered in confusion.
Luther Winter, the eldest son of the winter household. First child of Alias winter and Diane winter, his wife. Luther was seven years older than Aildris. His presence was always commanding,not through force but as if it were a law meant to be obeyed. Silent and cold like an endless winter night.
Hatred or love he never showed Aildris, so why speak to him now?
"I know you're grieving but follow me" he said and began to walk away.
Aildris stared at his broad shoulders as he ward away, he didn't have to listen but eventually he did. He walked by Luther's side, both of them embracing the silence of the hallways, servants occasionally giving a slight nod to Luther whenever he passed.
Aildris was at first confused about where he was being taken but soon enough he realised. Luther had brought him to the training grounds of the winter manor. He had hardly ever been here, if hardly meant never then yes.
He had always felt that the training grounds were for those with gifts and he wasn't one, yet. So there had never been a reason to come here.
Luther walked forward and picked a wooden sword from the racks, giving it a couple swings he faced the blade towards Aildris and said.
"Watch closely".
He lunged forward, the wooden blade sliced through the air as he went for a stab. The moment his foot touched the ground,he spun, the silent whistle of the blade echoed round the hall like room. He follows up with countless slashes, each aimed at a vital point.
Heart, joints, veins.
Each strike held its own intent, wound,disarm or kill. Boots beating at the wooden floor, cold air spewed from his mere presence. Frost creeped and etched itself into the floor boards.
Swoosh!
The blade came to a halt,its final slice in the cold air.
Luther hardly broke a sweat after swinging relentlessly for nearly five minutes.
"What I just did is the family's sacred sword technique passed down from generations to generations. This technique existed even before the era of gifted, refined countless times and perfected by only true blades of battle, the snow pattern." Luther said as he walked towards the racks to return the wooden sword.
"Why are you showing me?" Aildris asked him, he couldn't see a reason behind Luther's actions.
"Isn't it simple" Luther said, with a height peaking to nearly six feet he looked like a giant to try small framed ten years old Aildris.
"To give you a chance" he added, his gaze lowered down to Aildiris's height.
"A chance at what?" Aildris asked, venom etched into his tone. He hated being looked down, both literally and figuratively. Grievance couldn't change his nature.
" A chance to grow stronger, you're weak Aildris. The weakest gifted I have ever seen since I was born. If you were thrown in a fight against someone who's just awakened their gift, you'll lose. I heard what you said to father,probably thinking my mother was responsible for isla's death and honestly speaking that might be true." Luther said casually.
Aildris was trembling with rage, the casual tone Luther had despite claiming that his mother could possibly have orchestrated Isla's death.
"You're young just like the rest of us. You want your pound of flesh, want my mother to suffer as much as yours did in the flames. But you can't do all that cause you are weak, powerless and pitiful" Luther continued to speak.
"Are you advising me to kill your mother?" Aildris questioned him, because that was the view he was getting.
"No, I'm not. I'm simply giving you purpose. A reason to be strong because if your revenge involves you thrashing around like you do with our father then I'm afraid your mother's death isn't worth vengeance." Luther answered.
His words cut Aildris deeply, he didn't have purpose.
"Before you can kill my mother you'll have to get to me, so I want you to understand what you're up against" Luther told him.
"And what if I surpass you?" Another question was thrown his way.
"You can't" he snapped back, this time his tone felt more cold than casual.
"Unlike you, I'm strong," he added.
Do you want to be the pitied winter bastard?, Luther asked "Aildris the choice will always be yours".
Aildris turned and began to walk out of the room, he had listened to all Luther had to say and although he hated to admit it, it was all true but now he finally had purpose.
****
Still laid on the grass and looking at the star-swept sky a matured Aildris grabbed the handle of his blade and pointed it at the crescent moon.
"Doesn't matter how long it takes, seven…..eight…hundred years. I would give my mother the revenge her death deserved" he told himself, a silent rage burning within him
"They shall all face retribution".