Zepar looked down at the village elder of Grimcrest, feeling sickened by how much better he felt in that moment. "I want an answer, Elder Uru," he whispered coldly. The elder shuddered on the table, bloodied and burned by Zepar's torturous experiments. Zepar grimaced as the pressure inside him finally eased—only for the nausea to set in, forcing him to hold back the urge to retch.
"P-please...no more," Uru rasped.
"Then tell me, why does the whole village hate me? What sin am I guilty of?" Zepar raised his dagger, and Uru's eyes widened.
"Alright, alright I'll tell you," Uru relented. "You are the bastard son of a necromancer, Zardeem was his name."
Zepar let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding in. "I'm hated for being a bastard?" he asked incredulously. "That's not rare, there must be dozens of bastard children in Grimcrest alone. That can't be all there is to it."
"It's not because you're a bastard," Uru admitted. "It's because you're his bastard."
"What does that mean?" Zepar demanded.
"He arrived in Grimcrest, fancy tricks and charm," Uru spat. "Amira was smitten from her first glance."
"Amira...my mother?" Zepar pressed.
Uru nodded weakly. "He used magic to sweep her away—distant cities, endlessly blooming flowers." He spat in contempt. "Parlor tricks dressed as miracles." He took a deep breath. "And it worked, she left with him to be his wife." He glared up at Zepar. "Two years after they left together, Zardeem came back." He shuddered. "No Amira, just a baby. He left you with Amira's parents and just vanished."
"Amira's parents," Zepar hesitated. "The Blackthornes?" he growled. Uru nodded in confirmation, the Blackthorne couple who had looked after Zepar until he'd turned five. They'd known all along and had never told him. Zepar gritted his teeth. They had known. Every glare. Every whisper. They had known why. "What of my mother? Where is she?"
"According to Zardeem, she died giving birth to you," Uru whispered. "And that is your sin, Zepar Blackthorne." His eyes hardened. "You are the unnatural son of that unnatural man, wielding unnatural powers, made even worse by your first breath being Amira's last."
"So you, and all of Grimcrest, decided to punish a child for something he didn't even know about?" Zepar demanded quietly. He didn't wait for Uru to answer, he didn't need his response. Zepar drew his dagger across his throat, his breath quick and shallow as the light slowly faded from the bound elder's eyes. Zepar's hands hung limply at his sides, the dagger clanging onto the floor as he stepped stiffly out of the hut.
Zepar stood there for a moment, staring at the ground, his eyes wide with shock. He couldn't comprehend it, why he was a monster for something he had never done. After a moment, Zepar looked up and saw the other villagers gathered around him, wondering why he'd just come out of Uru's hut. His eyes narrowed as he felt a dangerous calm settle over himself. He had spent his entire life begging to be seen as human. Zepar was done begging.
"I know why you hate me now," Zepar declared coldly. "You judge me because of my father." He raised his hands, palms up toward the sky. "You've called me a monster my whole life," he said, forcing a demented grin to split his face. "Is this monstrous enough for you?" he sneered. His face hardened as spheres of flame began to blossom from his palms, scattering across the village.
Zepar woke with a start, covered in a cold sweat and panting. His snow-white hair stuck to his forehead as he sat straight up in bed. Several deep breaths later, and he was mostly calm again, though shaken. That damned day still haunted him in his dreams, but it had still been months since he'd had that particular nightmare.
'Hard to believe it's already been two whole years since that day,' he thought bitterly.
With trembling fingers, he pulled the blanket off and made his way out of his dorm room. Here, the great wizard Edarin had taken him under his tutelage. Zepar draped the half cape, which marked him as Edarin's disciple, over his shoulders with a sigh. The deep purple color clashed horribly with his light brown tunic, but he could scarcely afford better clothes. One day he hoped to be able to drape himself in elegance.
'But for now, I look like a shabby pet...with a fancy collar,' he mused with contempt. Zepar returned to his dorm room and meticulously straightened the sheets and blanket on his bed before sitting cross-legged on the floor.
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply as he concentrated on drawing in the ambient mana. This was how mages built up their mana reserves. Like strengthening a muscle, a mage's mana pool could be expanded by gradually forcing small amounts of mana into already full reserve. Zepar had been using this method even before his master had told him that it was the standard practice. He still didn't have a clue what he would do with the power he was building. Edarin had actually asked him that very question the previous night, and Zepar was still unsure.
One thing he was sure of was that having enough power meant that he'd never be at someone else's mercy.
He sat there, continuing his mana cultivation for an hour before he heard the familiar ringing of a bell that signaled for him to join Master Edarin in the study. With a resigned sigh, Zepar stood and left his dorm room. On his way, he stopped by the kitchen to begin brewing a pot of jasmine tea. It was Edarin's favorite, and Zepar was quite fond of the tea as well.
A few minutes later, the sweet scent of the tea wafted up to him from the tray he carried as he approached the study. Two delicate porcelain cups, already filled with tea, sat beside the kettle, along with a small, wooden bowl of sugar cubes. Upon entering Edarin's study, Zepar simply set the tray down on the table before sitting down across from his master. As usual, the chessboard was already set and Master Edarin was waiting patiently, wearing a kind smile as he gestured for Zepar to make the first move.
"So, disciple—" Edarin began with a casual tone as he moved one of his pawns to block Zepar's. "Have you had enough time to consider my question from last night?" He arched an eyebrow as Zepar quickly took out his pawn, he'd expected this move, Zepar was always quite confrontational.
"Master, I've given it a lot of thought," Zepar replied slowly. "But I still don't have an answer." He sighed as he moved his knight to advance.
"You'll need to come up with something sooner or later, Zepar," Edarin warned. He made another move, and Zepar felt his brief victory faltering.
"Master, isn't it simply enough to have enough power to protect what's mine?" Zepar asked. Edarin didn't fail to notice the rare trace of vulnerability in Zepar's voice. His face softened as he held the gaze of his troubled disciple.
"Power alone is empty, Zepar," Edarin explained. "And while protecting what is yours is fine, isn't it a waste to use it only for that?" He smiled as he moved his queen, putting Zepar in check. "This applies to life as much as to magic, Zepar. Without purpose, everything is hollow." He smiled as Zepar tried moving his king out of check, a futile endeavor. Edarin moved his bishop into position and clapped his hands together in celebration. "Checkmate."