Keldras pushed open the door to the water closet and gave himself a thorough inspection in the mirror, making sure there were no additional injuries.
He started at the top.
His long silver hair was a bit blackened with soot, but there were no cuts or scrapes on his scalp.
His pale skin retained its faint bluish tint.
There were no cuts on his long, slender ears.
His slightly elongated canines were intact.
His eyes…
The same yellow they’d always been.
Wait.
Had they always had those flecks of sea blue?
Well, he’d probably never paid attention to that sort of superficial nonsense.
He continued his inspection.
Lean, but not quite as slight as most elves.
No cuts on his shoulders, underarms, or sides.
Slight damage to his left bicep—he already knew about that.
It was healing quickly.
“Keldras…”
His ear twitched.
He looked around.
Nothing.
Maybe Garrok was right.
His ears were probably still ringing from the blast.
Satisfied that nothing else was out of place, he left his room and headed for the main hall.
Garrok’s boisterous laughter echoed up from the main hall.
He briskly walked its length and descended the stairs to the first floor.
A fire danced wildly in the hearth behind the large oaken table.
Sitting at the head of the table was Valdax.
Deep scars crossed his dark-tanned skin, and his shaved head gleamed in the firelight.
Amber eyes rose from his wine to meet Keldras’s.
“Another accident?” he asked, amusement creeping into his voice.
Keldras gave him a cold look.
“The lab is not your storehouse, Father.”
The older elf returned the stare, neither willing to look away.
An orc woman walked into the room.
Her green skin carried a faint bluish tinge, and her long, silken violet hair was parted around ears that ended in elegant points.
Her left ear bore three piercings.
Purple-tinted eyes flicked back and forth between the two before she sighed.
“Valdax…” she said, drawing out the last syllable.
Valdax couldn’t keep up the act.
His stern expression twisted into a grin, and he burst into laughter.
He waved a dismissive hand.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. We’ve got plenty of other places for my explosives. That space is just more convenient.”
The older orc let out an exasperated huff.
“I was just playing with him, Ziri. He’s always so serious.”
Valdax somehow managed to say that with a perfectly straight face.
“That damn Valdax hasn’t changed. He’s still pushing everyone’s buttons. If I wasn’t still trapped, I’d wipe that smug expression off his face.”
Keldras heard it clearly this time.
A woman’s voice—soft and gentle, like a spring rain, yet ending with an edge sharp enough to rival a thunderclap.
He looked around.
Judging from everyone’s expressions, no one else had heard it.
He closed his eyes.
Who are you?
Can you hear me?
he thought.
The voice paused mid-rant.
“Well, well. Finally willing to listen.” Her tone carried a hint of annoyance.
“Took you long enough. Though what should I expect from someone with that childish boor for a father?”
Keldras nearly choked on his glass of water.
His mother glanced over before returning to the family conversation.
Who are you, and why can I hear you?
he asked silently.
“You wouldn’t be able to pronounce my real name. You can call me Saphira—or Abigail, if you prefer something more human. As for why you can hear me…” She paused.
“Beats me.”
He could almost hear the shrug in her voice.
Valdax grabbed Keldras by the shoulder and gave him a shake.
“You fall asleep, kid?”
Keldras opened his eyes.
“What?”
“The Coliseum. You’re going with Garrok tomorrow. You’re spending too much time cooped up in that lab. Keep it up and you’re going to grow wings.”
He finished with a smirk.
“Nimrod,” Saphira muttered.
Keldras snorted but managed to keep a straight face.
“I don’t have a weapon,” he replied calmly.
“Then go take one out of the storehouse.” Valdax waved him away.
“No isn’t an option. It’s about time you got some training.”
After dinner, Keldras found himself sorting through the storehouse.
A wide variety of weapons and armor filled the room.
Every time he reached toward one, a sharp No cracked through his mind like a whip.
Eventually, he shouldered his way through a blocked doorway at the back, knocking something to the floor with a loud crash.
A cloud of thick white dust billowed into the air.
Keldras coughed as it settled over him.
The room beyond was pitch-black, with no windows.
He could barely see, and his eyes began to sting.
He rubbed the grime from them, blinked, and frowned.
Had the room just gotten brighter?
Could he actually see better?
He stepped through the gap he’d made and looked around.
The chamber appeared to be a small storage room filled with oddities his father had collected during his travels.
His gaze fell on a cracked mask, one of its eyeholes broken open as though struck by a heavy blow.
I thought he only had the other mask.
His attention settled on a mounted dragon’s head.
Even in the darkness, the scales reflected faint light.
“Hmph. That’s clearly fake.”
He reached out and touched the scales.
They were cold to the touch.
“Feels pretty real to me.”
“If I say it’s fake, it’s fake!” came the indignant reply.
Who is this stuck-up woman?
he thought.
“Who’s stuck-up?”
Keldras rolled his eyes and continued exploring.
In the back corner, behind a large standing crate, he spotted something massive.
He couldn’t quite make it out, so he reached around it.
His hand closed around a rough haft.
Carefully, he pulled the object free.
It was an exquisitely crafted halberd.
The haft appeared to be carved from bone, though it was denser than any animal bone he knew.
It was wrapped in rough, reddish leather, worn smooth with age.
The blade shimmered with a silver-blue sheen, and its head had been forged in the likeness of a seated dragon, its outstretched wings forming the axe blade.
“That one,” Saphira said, brooking no argument.
Chapter 2 artwork featuring Keldras and the mysterious Saphira.
https://postimg.cc/06yfwCd5