When he arrived in Gilramore again a month later, Zepar felt lighter than ever. He'd finally decided what he wanted to do with his power. And he was finally ready to give Aya an answer. Nyx was sleeping peacefully on his shoulder as he strode through town, heading to Master Edarin's tower.
"I promise, it's a lie," a man said to his wife. "I never touched her. I wouldn't. I love only you."
Zepar smirked. 'Well, if he's telling the truth, he has nothing to worry about,' he mused, casting a hex on the man.
"Gertrude says she saw you together," the man's wife shrieked. "And you're saying nothing happened?"
"Absolutely nothing," the man insisted. "I never even touched her." As soon as the words left his lips, his nose elongated by an inch. "W-what?"
"Oh that's a little lie detection spell of mine," Zepar explained. "Lying grows it, telling the truth shrinks it back." He walked away, just giving a dismissive wave at the man without turning to look back at him when the man shouted several expletives at his retreating back.
Upon entering Edarin's tower, Zepar held his fist in his other hand and bowed. "Disciple greets Master," he said warmly.
"Welcome back, Zepar," Edarin said with a smile. "I suspect you've had quite the journey."
"I have, Master," Zepar said, nodding. "And I accomplished what I set out to do."
"Wonderful," Edarin said, beaming. "Come, I just brewed a pot of tea. We'll have a cup, and you can tell me your tale."
"It's a long one, Master," Zepar said, chuckling softly.
"Then it's a good thing I've a comfortable chair, and a lot of tea," Edarin joked. The two men sat down in the study and Edarin poured them each a cup of tea before sitting back in his chair. He sipped his tea and smiled kindly. "So," he began. "Start from the beginning."
Over the next hour and a half, Zepar told Edarin everything that had happened, while Nyx was contentedly curled up in the former's lap. Occasionally, Zepar would pull a piece of jerky from his storage ring before magically mulching it before feeding it to Nyx.
"You've had quite the experience," Edarin said when Zepar finished his story.
"I have, Master," Zepar replied. "I still don't know much about my origins. The seer I visited gave me this." He held up the crystal Aya had given him. "It apparently contains my father's history, but I wanted to wait until I was in a better place to view it."
"There's no rush," Edarin assured him. "Sometimes the past has something to teach us. But other times, it only brings heartache."
Zepar nodded. "I'm ready now," he said firmly. "I need to know who he was." He clutched the crystal tighter. "But I'm afraid to do it alone." He looked up at Edarin. "Will you see it with me, Master?"
"If that is what you want," Edarin replied. "But remember, you are not your father. Whatever we see in there means absolutely nothing about who you are."
Zepar nodded and held out the crystal to Edarin, who, after taking another sip of his tea, extended a single finger and touched the stone.
Zepar and Edarin found themselves standing in an apple orchard. The trees were heavy with ripe apples, and as they watched, a guard in full plate armor reached up and picked one of the apples before biting into it. A second guard standing next to him did the same.
Suddenly, the two heard a child screaming at the two guards.
"Get your hands off our apples, you thieves!" A young boy with black hair and blue eyes screamed, brandishing a broken broom handle.
"Oh look, the little squirt thinks he's a warrior," the first guard scoffed.
"Hey don't be like that," the second guard said. "If he wants to be a warrior…" He drew his sword as he approached the boy. "...We should respect his resolve."
Before the situation could turn any worse, a tall man with a dirty tunic and the same eyes and hair as the boy stepped in. He quickly took the broom handle and tossed it aside before placing his hand on the boy's head, forcing him to bow his head as he did the same.
"A thousand pardons, sir, please overlook this," he pleaded. "He is just a boy, I'll be sure to teach him respect." He gave the boy a side-long glance before returning his gaze to the guards. "Please, help yourself to more apples."
"Well, it seems I inherited something from my father after all," Zepar murmured.
"Yes," Edarin agreed. "An intolerance for injustice."
As they watched, the guards accepted a basket of apples and went on their way. As soon as they were out of earshot, the man rounded on his son.
"What were you thinking, Zardeem?" he chastised. "Challenging two armed and armored men with a stick?"
"They were stealing our apples, father," Zardeem argued. "It's not bad enough the Baron takes most of our money in taxes, now his thugs are stealing the source of the money too?"
"I know," Zardeem's Father said gently, dropping to one knee to be eye-level with his son. "I know it's not right. But we can't stop them." He hugged Zardeem tightly. "We can always grow more apples. But we can't grow another you."
The scene shifted to a dark bedroom, lit only by a single candle by which Zardeem was reading a book on magic.
"The powerless have to bow their heads to tyrants?" Zardeem muttered to himself. "Fine, but I will never bow my head again."
Zepar watched in tense fascination. That had been his initial reason as well. He'd wanted enough power so that nobody could ever hurt him again. The similarities between him and his father were beginning to disturb him.
The scene shifted again, Zardeem and his parents at the dinner table. A meager meal of dry bread and water. Zardeem's father explaining that the Baron had raised the taxes again in order to commission a statue of himself in the town square.
Again, the scene changed. This time, the vision was darker. Both in lighting, and in the events it showed. Zardeem was standing in the Baron's bed chambers, clad in a dark, hooded cloak and holding out a blood-red gemstone that pulsed ominously.
"Y-you—you can't do this!" the Baron rasped as his soul was drawn into the gem.
"Can't I?" Zardeem sneered. "You've been bleeding us dry for years. But now, you'll be fuel for us for a change." He smirked. "With your soul, I can conjure enough food for the whole town to eat their fill for years."
Zepar watched in horror, realizing how easily good intentions could make a person do something horrifying. He then saw something Zardeem didn't. A guard sneaking into the room. Just as the gem finished draining the Baron's soul, the guard strong-armed him into shackles. The gem still held firmly in his grip.
The scene shifted yet again. Now Zardeem was in the middle of the town square, the townsfolk gathered around him as the guard who'd captured him forced him onto his knees.
"This brat was apprehended while using dark magic to assassinate the Baron," the guard announced. "As you all are aware, use of black magic is already a serious crime, warranting several years in prison." Zardeem gritted his teeth. He knew what was coming. "The murder of a noble, however, has but one sentence." The guard drew his sword.
"Kill the heretic!" One of Zardeem's own neighbors shouted.
"Off with his head!" shouted another of the townsfolk, the baker who often bought his family's apples. Those shouts were like a spark on oil, and suddenly everyone was pushing for his execution, determined to make it clear to the guards that he had acted alone.
Zardeem looked at the crowd and spotted his father. There were tears in his father's eyes, but as their gazes met, his father did the unthinkable. He closed his eyes, and turned away.
Zepar's face darkened as he noticed the shift in Zardeem's features. He imagine must have looked similar when he decided to burn Grimcrest.
"I try to help you people, and you abandon me?" Zardeem growled. "You'd rather be cattle? To be used as living resources for someone else's benefit?" The people recoiled, and Zepar saw shame in many of their eyes. Zardeem, however, didn't seem to notice it. "Then by all means," Zardeem sneered. "Be mere resources." With that, a powerful burst of mana erupted from Zardeem as thin threads of red mana snaked out from the gemstone he held, piercing everyone in the square and forcibly drawing their souls into the gem.
For fifteen seconds, the square was filled with screams of terror and pain. Then suddenly, an eerie quiet filled the space. Zardeem stood. His hair had lost its color, and his eyes now bore the hue of blood. He retrieved the keys to his shackles from the guard's corpse and freed himself. He glanced over at his father's lifeless body before turning away. He then dropped to his knees and let out a scream somewhere between grief and rage.