Chapter Text
It was all a lie…
Caleb was on his knees, a numbness settling over him as he stared up at Trent Ikithon as his former master lightly swung the necklace that he had believed kept him safe between his fingers as he studied Caleb. The jewel catching the light from the flames that surrounded them, cutting them off from the rest of the battlefield. Separating him from his friends, and leaving him alone, and trapped with the nightmare that he was only just starting to realise that he had never escaped.
“Did you know Bren, that there is an inherent weakness in humans?” Trent was talking now, his voice carrying clearly despite the crackle and roar of the flames, and the shouts and screams of those falling around them, as the Empire and Dynasty clashed, unaware of what was developing in this tiny corner of the battle. Caleb wished that he could block him out, that he could stop himself from flinching at the use of his old name, as though nothing had changed, as though everything he had done as Caleb Widogast was of no import. But he couldn’t, the voice making him shiver as it seemed to wrap around him, calling to him, slipping beneath the surface as it had all those years ago. Not a charm, not yet at least, but the skill of a man who knew how to twist far greater foes to his side with nothing more than words. “There is magic in this world, greater than anything that can be taught at the academy. Greater than anything I taught you, and yet when humans try to use it, they baulk at the task.”
“Dunamancy…” He hadn’t meant to speak, the words slipping out before he could stop them, and he felt sick as Trent smiled at him. No longer feigning the proud smile of a teacher, but instead using the one of a Master watching its pet do a trick that it should’ve learnt a long time ago, and the words that followed had him swallowing bile.
“You always were a bright boy.”
“Liebling.” There were tears in his mother’s eyes as she pulled him into a tight hug, which he returned fiercely as he felt his own eyes beginning to sting. As excited as he was to be able to go and see the world beyond the village, to learn the magic that he couldn’t find in the few scrolls and books that passed through their narrow world, he was going to miss this place. Sniffling slightly as her arms tightened around him, her voice suspiciously thick as she kissed his cheek and murmured. “My bright spark, I’m going to miss you.”
“I’ll come and visit,” he whispered in reply, looking up to include his father in that statement. Before adding as brightly as he could manage with the lump that had risen at the sight of his usually stoic father wearing a sad smile. “I’ll be able to show you all the magic I’ve learnt.”
Pain dragged him back to the present, and he found himself slumped to one side, one cheek stinging fiercely, and stunned he lifted trembling fingers to it, feeling blood beneath his touch as he looked up at Trent. The smile from seconds ago was gone, and there was a magical pressure building around them that had Caleb swallowing nervously, remembering with no small amount of terror the few times he had felt the full force of that magic. However, after a moment of hovering ominously barely an inch from his skin, the magic pulled back, and Trent merely arched an eyebrow at him. “Pay attention now Bren, after all, this is the most important lesson you will ever learn.” Numb relief had Caleb nodding, earning him a rough pat against his injured cheek before the older man pulled away, and began to pace as he always had when lecturing.
“Now as I was saying, there is an inherent human weakness. Some instinct that makes us fear to use such magic,” Trent continued as though there had been no interruption. “Even I have felt it.” That caught Caleb’s attention as he heard the frustration in the admission, and his hand that had fallen away from his cheek curled into a fist. Is this my opening…? The magic, the fruit of his decision before the Bright Queen, seemed to swell beneath his skin, an alluring siren call as it pleaded with him to let it go, but he held on tight.
Not yet, not until I know the truth…
He doubted that there was anything that he would learn that could change what he needed to do, the plan that had driven him this far, but he wanted to at least know the truth. And so, he reigned in the magic and kept his expression as calm as he could with terror and anticipation coursing through him with equal measure, making sure to frown when Ikithon glanced at him. As though he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing, and he wasn’t sure that he did, unable to imagine Trent fearing any form of magic. “I have mastered parts of it, as I’m sure you saw back in Zadash.” The words so calmly delivered, were like a physical blow. Further confirmation that he had never been hidden, that he had never been free, and the urge to throw up intensified, and he had to lock himself into place, not daring to move.
Ikithon looked almost disappointed at his lack of reaction, before shaking his head and continuing, the frustration bleeding back into his voice. “Yet, there are still aspects of Dunamancy that are beyond me, some part of me blocking me from utilising it. At first, I thought that it could be overcome, that if a human body were modified enough, it would allow them to use those spells.” Caleb looked down at that, unable to stop himself from reaching for one scarred arm and flinching at the chuckle that greeted the action. “Yes, those crystals were one of many attempts to break through that human instinct. A failure, although it certainly produced other results.” Caleb thought back to Eodwulf fighting with a strength that no human should have until they’d been forced to all but obliterate him to put him down, and to the way Astrid had danced through the battle, almost untouchable as spells seemed to soak into her skin. Other results indeed…
“But it wasn’t enough was it?” He asked, finally finding his voice. The words almost lost as an explosion rocked the ground beyond where they were, and for a moment his heart seemed to stop as he saw Fjord and Yasha who had been trying to keep both sides away from them go flying. However, they seemed to recover quickly enough, Yasha moving to cover Fjord as he downed a healing potion, before sending four bolts of Eldritch Blast into the guards that had accompanied Trent. His attention shifted back to Ikithon just in time to catch the glimmer of anger, before it could be masked, and it was a small triumph, but one that he was happy to claim, as there was little enough in his favour at the moment.
“No.” The word came through gritted teeth before Ikithon regained his calm and continued as though the slip had never happened. “The students I tested afterwards were either unable to use the magic, some dying in the attempt, or driven mad.” Sparks danced around Caleb’s fingers at the dismissive tone. He doesn’t care. It hurt far more than it should have to be reminded that the man cared nothing for the students he had manipulated, or the lives he had destroyed, even though he had realised it long ago. “For a time, I let it go, working on creating stronger students. Children beholden to me, who could serve as weapons to the Empire. Just like you, my precious Bren.”
“I’m not yours,” Caleb snarled, channelling Beau for a moment and immediately regretting it as pain slammed into him, the glimmer of his mage armour doing nothing to protect him as lightning crackled around him. He screamed, twisting and jerking in the centre of the storm, tasting copper as he bit his tongue as he thrashed around, and it felt like a lifetime, even though it had only been seconds before the spell was lifted, leaving him sprawled and twitching at Trent’s feet.
“You have always been mine, Bren.” His lip curled at the hated name, but he didn’t dare argue at the moment, lacking the strength to try and avoid the foot that came to rest against his chest for a moment, pinning him in place. Reminding him of where the power lay at the moment. “And you will always be mine.” No. Never again, Caleb thought fiercely, but he didn’t speak, and after a moment Ikithon sighed and removed his foot with a disappointed shake of his head. “I see some retraining will be in order, you’ve picked up some bad habits in your travels, and I can’t have a wayward weapon.”
“I’m just a weapon, I’ll never be anything else…”
“You’re not a weapon.” Caleb had jolted at the quiet words, unprepared for Yasha crouching down beside him, having not intended to say those words aloud. Startled he glanced up at the quiet woman, who was watching him with pained understanding in her mis-matched eyes. “I’ve been a weapon, I still am to some extent,” her fingers brushed the symbol of the Storm Lord that she carried, but there was warmth in her gaze as she glanced at it. “So, I know what it’s like. But you’re not beholden to anyone. You fight with us, not for us, and we will understand if you can’t fight this time…”
I’m not a weapon, Caleb clung to that thought, watching as Ikithon began to pace once more, focusing on breathing deeply and hoping the pain would ease, as there was no way he was going to get away with downing a potion and he was too far away from Caduceus and Jester for them to help at the moment. Which was a good thing, even if it would have been nice to have the lingering burn of the lightning chased out his trembling limbs, as it was making it hard to focus on the next few words. Or maybe it was because he was still trying to convince himself that he wasn’t just a weapon, but eventually, he managed to focus relieved that Trent hadn’t noticed his distraction and punished him for it.
“…I sent spies to Xhorhas and further afield, gathering any piece of information I could find, and eventually, I found the answer.” Dark eyes focused on him once more, demanding his attention this time and Caleb did his best to focus, even though he was fairly sure that he had just heard a familiar voice raised in pain beyond the flames. “Do you know what most people, especially humans fear when someone mentions interfering with time?” Caleb shook his head, not because he didn’t have an answer, but because it seemed to him that there were too many possible answers. Remembering Beau’s uneasiness at seeing exactly what the Kryn were capable of, and the fear in Jester’s eyes when she had once tried to broach the topic of what Caleb wanted with magic like that. “They fear destroying their own existence. One little change and their own life could change completely, or even be eradicated entirely, and they fear it even if they don’t realise it. It’s that fear that need to preserve their own existence that holds us back. That stops us from delving fully into Dunamancy.”
“But, the Kryn…”
“They have moved beyond that fear, but even they are not immune. Surely you have seen how many have been lost to the madness that takes so many that force the magic?”
Caleb shivered, both at the reminder that the older man had known exactly where he was all this time and at the memory of the haunting cries beneath the city as he had been shown the true scope of Dunamancy… and the price. Ikithon nodded an amused quirk to his lips at the reaction. “But it was in that madness that I found the answer because even those Kryn can use Dunamancy, and I began to wonder if it was possible for a human to be pushed to that point too.” He couldn’t hide his reaction this time, it was too visceral, a full body shudder wracking him, the pain ignored as he bolted upright, fire building around his hands.
“You…” He didn’t get any further, the spell slamming into place and locking him into position, unable to move a muscle or do anything but glare at Ikithon, a leaden weight sinking into the pit of his stomach as he saw the fury on the man’s face. Realising what he had just done and cursing up a storm in Zemnian in his head, unable to make so much as a sound as Trent prowled closer, knowing that he was utterly at his mercy for the time being. Even more aware of how alone he was at this moment, as it dawned on him that the others weren’t close enough to help him shake it off.
“Bren. Bren, Bren, Bren…” Somehow the light scolding was worse than the fury he could see in Ikithon’s face, and he braced himself, waiting for the pain. Hoping for it, as it might be his only way to freedom, but it had been a fools hope because the older man stopped right in front of him. “You always did feel things too strongly, but it’s okay, I will help you with that.” Caleb was trembling, frantic denials bubbling up with nowhere to go, but there was nothing he could do but watch as Ikithon began to circle him, studying him like he was a surprise, a shiver working its way down his spine whenever the other man passed out of view for a moment. “But as your brilliant mind deduced, you were my test subjects. My first trial to see if a human forced to the breaking point, looming on madness, could push through that natural resistance, and how could I lose? If I succeeded and one of you broke, I would have my answer and potentially my weapon. If I failed, I would have loyal soldiers bound to me through more than mere loyalty.
“He’s the monster Caleb, not you.” Beau was the first thing he saw as the memories began to fade away, and he blinked, startled to find that they had arrived back at the inn while he was lost in the past. Guilt made his stomach churn, knowing that they’d had enough injured people to do without hauling his ass back as well. However, there was no irritation in the words or her expression, as she studied him, and he wondered what he had said to make her say that. And what he could have done to make these people, so blind to his flaws. Trent might have made him like this and pointed him at his family, but he had been the one who hadn’t let himself see the truth. The one that had allowed himself be moulded into a weapon.
“Yes, I am…”
He still believed that, and yet as he listened to Trent now, he couldn’t help but think about Beau’s words, and for the first time, he consciously let himself agree with her assessment. He is a monster, and yet what does that make me? He didn’t want the answer to that, just as he didn’t want Trent to continue, although he needed him to, the truth looming over him, terrible and bright.
“And you broke so wonderfully Bren.” Fingers brushed his cheek, a grim mockery of a caress as Trent stopped in front of him and Caleb could see the fire reflected in his eyes, and all he could see was the house going up in flames… his parent’s screams rising about the crackle of the fire, and the grass beneath his knees as the enormity of what he had done struck home. “So, I took my other beautiful, broken soldiers, and I waited. Letting you shatter until the bright child was gone, and then I took you, put you back together and sent you out into the world to seek for the answers we both wanted.”
Caleb was shattering now. He’d known. He’d known from the moment Ikithon had arrived, expecting to find him that something had been wrong, and there had been a dawning, sinking horror in the pit of his stomach when the older man had all but yanked the necklace away with a muttered ‘there’s no need to keep track of you anymore…’ But hearing the words made it a thousand times worse, as he remembered the woman who had ‘rescued’ him, another tool in Ikithon’s arsenal he realised now, and he was almost grateful for the spell holding him, because he would have fallen then as the weight of this new betrayal cut deeper than he’d ever thought possible.
“A broken man who wanted to fix what he had done could break through that human instinct, and look at you,” Trent stepped back, spreading his arms to indicate the battle raging around them, an artist revealing his masterpiece to an audience of one. “Here you stand, bringing me the answers I need. The power that will win us this war.” ‘Us’ sounded suspiciously like ‘me’, and Caleb knew that if Ikithon got his hands on this power, he would be elevated above all others in the Empire, untouchable. No, he blinked furiously, desperately trying to tear at the magic holding him in place as that realisation hit home.
He had his answers now, his truth, and never before had he wished so heartily that he could unlearn something, as it felt as though everything was crumbling beneath him. He was fighting with everything he had, clawing at the net trapping him into place, but it didn’t want to give way, seeming to wrap tighter around him. His desperation growing, as Ikithon moved into his space once more, reaching for his arm, and pulling the sleeve up to reveal the scars that now glittered like starlight against his skin, an almost reverent expression on his face as he ran a finger along the length of one, magic crackling between them. “My bright Bren, my human mote of possibility…”