Chapter Text
The sky was overcast, covered by a grey blanket of fluffy clouds. The streets were busy with beggars and pedestrians of all races, though the place wasn’t unified. If an inn was run by an elf, it was unlikely that it would accept other races, if a tavern was run by a dragonborn, it wouldn’t be strange to only accept other dragonborns. And of course, the army accepted only humans, because why would they let a different race-that could potentially endanger their king-near the man? While there were a few places that accepted any race, it wasn’t common.
In an elven inn sat a woman. In her lap, her son. He had green hair and striking yellow eyes. This is our protagonist. He slept quietly, his head rested on her shoulder as she started to drift into dreamland. They were peaceful but very poor. Meals were hard to come by, and it wasn’t daily that the mother could eat. The boy, about 6, was able to eat at least one full meal daily, and despite the high price of fruit, he had the luxury of eating fruit about once a week.
The woman snapped out of her hazy state, realizing that her son had fallen asleep. She picked him up gently, lovingly, carefully walking up the stairs to the upper floors of the inn and placing him gently on the single bed that stood alone in their room. She bent down, planting a soft kiss on his forehead before straightening to her full height and walking through the doorway, leaving her son in their room as she left for work.
The boy she loved so much wasn’t planned, and his father was long gone. She had sold her precious body to the man for 20 gold coins. She never planned to have children, but when she was accidentally impregnated, she loved the fetus that was forming in her stomach so much already that there was no way that she would ever dismiss the child’s life. He was her offspring, he was hers. It would be evil to do something so vile.
She turned back, looking fondly at her child before leaving. Her footsteps quieted, becoming less and less apparent as she descended the stairs. She told the innkeeper that she was heading off to work and to tell her son what she was doing if he came downstairs. With those simple words, she left through the front door.
-|-|-|-
The young boy woke up with a startle. Just moments ago, he was sleeping peacefully in his mother’s lap, but now he was on the bed in their room, alone. Worried that she had been hurt, he rushed down the stairs, standing on his toes as he tried to match the innkeeper’s height. She seemed very tired and weary, but he was too worried to care.
“Where’s Mum?” He asked worriedly, to which the innkeeper simply smiled and patted the boy gently on the shoulder.
“Don’t worry, she’s alright. She’s just at work. She got a new job and now she has to work through the night.”
The boy didn’t understand all of what the sentence meant, but he understood the gist of it and breathed a sigh of relief, shutting his eyes as his heartbeat rested. He fell back onto his feet, and stepped away from the counter, apologizing for panicking. The innkeeper smiled again, reassuring him that it was no bother, especially because things were very boring around these times.
He smiled, bidding her goodbye before ascending the stairs that led to the upper floors. He perched himself on the single bed, looking around the unfamiliar room. He grabbed one of the books that his mother failed to sell and flipped through the pages of a familiar but foreign script that he couldn’t read.
He looked out the window, seeing the dark sky. It would be speckled with stars if it weren’t for the permanent blanket of clouds. It rarely rained, but the clouds were always there. He wondered why.
He turned back down to his book, watching the pages turn, feeling the leather in his hands, listening to the noises it made.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. ‘Ah, that must be Mum.’ The boy thought. He stood up from the bed, gently placing the book where he had been sitting and approached the door.
He opened it slowly. Instead of his mother, there stood the innkeeper lady.
“Oh, you’re not Mum.” The boy said slowly. The innkeeper nodded, patting him gently on the head, making sure he wasn’t sad at his lacking mother. The innkeeper knew that she loved her son dearly, but with her being a single mother, it was very difficult to keep a steady home environment. She understood how hard it would be on a 6-year-old child.
“I’ve come to collect payment. One night here is 20 copper. You can also pay with 2 silver.” She smiled kindly, if not feeling bad for taking money from a child. The boy looked around the room, looking for the small bag of money that his mother carried with her.
Despite wandering around, looking for the small pouch, he was unable to find it.
“Sorry, miss, but I can’t find the money. Do you want to sit with me?” The boy said slowly, trying to remember the correct sentence structures and such.
“If you want, I can sit with you after collecting money from all the other patrons?” The innkeeper suggested, to which the boy nodded vigorously.
It didn’t take long for the woman to come back. Again, she knocked at the door and the boy answered. She didn’t have any of the money she collected so the boy assumed that she had put it somewhere else, maybe her room.
“So, when do you think your mother will be back?” The lady asked, sitting down on the bed next to the young boy.
“I don’t know. She’s comed home late before, but usually never before the sun comes up.” The boy said, not realizing that his grammar was partially incorrect.
“I see.” The innkeeper saw the book that sat at the end of the bed. The boy had failed to move it back to the bag he took it from. “Do you know how to read? You must be very smart for your age.”
“No… I don’t. Mum says school is too expensive and she doesn’t have time to teach me. I don’t want to be bad for her more than I already am.”
“In that case then, why don’t I teach you how to read?” The lady suggested. “Then you don’t have to worry about burdening your mother. I’m sure she would be very grateful for you being able to help her read important things as well!”
“Yes, yes, yes! Please do, miss!” The boy exclaimed in turn. He excitedly grabbed the book, opening it to a random page and pointing at a word.
“This says ‘people’. But we should start with something else. I’ll go get some paper.” She said, standing and rushing out the door. She quickly returned, a small stack of paper and a pen in her hands. She sat down on the bed next to the boy and proceeded to write out the whole alphabet. She explained the sounds of each letter and how some letters sounded different together.
After about an hour of teaching, there was another knock on the door. The boy stood up quickly, the innkeeper following after him as they walked to the door. The boy quickly opened the door and there stood his mother.
She seemed tired. There were bags under her droopy eyes and she moved slowly. The son quickly rushed back to the bed, collecting the scattered paper and putting everything in a pile on the dresser.
The innkeeper left the room after bidding goodbye to the boy and his mother. The young boy helped his mother get to bed and brought her their flask of water. She took a few sips before taking her shoes off and collapsing onto the bed.
Immediately, she fell asleep.
-|-|-|-
A boy woke, gently shaking his mother awake. She groaned, smiling gently as she turned around and looked adoringly at Apollo. That was his name. He finally remembered. “What is it, Darling?” She spoke, the soft words leaving her mouth so quietly he barely heard her.
“You should probably wake up, Mum.” He spoke, equally as quiet. “We need to leave before we’re kicked out.” The mother’s eyes widened slightly, before she stood, a rush of blood flowing from her head and making her dizzy for a quick second. Quietly, she packed their bags and rushed from the room, speeding down the stairs and dragging Apollo by his wrist.
“Mum-” He started, but was quickly cut off by a harsh “shh”. He quickly shut up, rushing through the front door of the inn in time with his mother. They rushed through the dark-but-busy streets, weaving through the thick crowd and finding respite in a back alley.
“I can help, Mum! I can work! I know that you don't have enough left of what Dad gave us to survive! Please, Mum.” The boy said, tears leaking from his eyes.
“No, you’re too young. How could I make my dearest son work at such a young age to help support the family? It was my choice to keep you, so I should work to provide for the both of us.”
The boy stayed silent, but in his head, he swore to help however he could. He would steal, he would kill. He didn’t care if his mother discovered his secret endeavours, he would continue nonetheless.
“Mum, you should rest. You’re not well, and I need you to get better. Please, rest.” Apollo says. He helps his mother crouch down against the wall, pressing a kiss to her forehead. He falls to the ground next to his dear mother, letting her head rest on his shoulder.
He waited until she fell asleep before carefully slipping away from under her head, laying her down on the stone ground. He tiptoed away, walking through the now-dark streets. Every time he spotted a person, he assessed them, trying to find someone with a few gold coins.
Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to find anyone fitting those conditions. He knew that no one would answer to a seemingly abandoned elf boy begging on the streets of Lumos, so he would steal. At least, that’s how he put it in his head. It wasn’t nearly as easy as he initially thought.
During his first attempt at pickpocketing, he was noticed immediately. He promptly received a good beating in a back alley. After that, he went home for the rest of the night.
His second attempt went a little better but still didn’t work. He wasn’t noticed as quickly, but the man he stole from had checked his pocket for his wallet and noticed it missing. He then noticed the boy running in the opposite direction and took his wallet back, also giving the boy a few bruises.
His third attempt, on his third night of being homeless, was his first success. He’d stolen a pouch of 5 silver coins from a man walking the streets and had scurried behind a store before being discovered. This occasion gave him the confidence to try again, and he snagged a few more silver coins from a drunk dragonborn.
He rushed back to the alley in which his mother rested, counting the silver coins in his hand.
‘4… 5… 6… 7… 8… and that’s it.’ He thought to himself. 8 silver was a lot for a kid like him. It could afford a whole loaf of bread. ‘Actually, I’ll do just that.’
He walked through the busy streets, looking for a stand selling bread. It didn’t take long for him to find one. He approached the merchant, holding out his eight silver coins and asking for a loaf of bread.
“That will be 5 silver, please.” The merchant said, holding his open hand on the table next to a loaf of bread. Apollo passed the requested 5 silver over. He grabbed a loaf of bread and fled the stand.
He ducked into the alleyway that his mother slept soundly in, gently shaking her shoulder.
“Mum, wake up. I was begging the merchant for some bread and eventually, he caved. Here, eat some.” He broke off a chunk of the bread, pushing it into her mouth.
“Thank you, Dearest.” The boy’s mother said, chewing the small piece that rested on her tongue. She sat up effortfully, patting the warm spot where she slept before as an invitation for Apollo to sit.
The boy sat down gratefully, pulling a piece of his hard-earned bread and placing it on his tongue. For many people, it would be disgusting. It was burnt and had no flavour, but to him it was delicious. It made sense though, seeing as he hadn't eaten in a few days.
The pair agreed to eat half of the bread and save the other half for tomorrow. They quickly ate their appointed half and Apollo’s mother placed the bread in the bag that contained a few other clothes, a flask of water and the minuscule savings that the boy’s mother had retained from working and the man she had met almost 11 years ago.
This… routine continued for the next few days. While Apollo’s mother slept, he would go out into the streets and steal whatever he could. He would buy gifts for his mother when he had extra money, not quite understanding the idea of saving it for the possibility of a difficult future.
Eventually, though, the boy gained the confidence to start approaching stealing from stands and bigger stores. This-while being more profitable-was riskier. Apollo only seemed to realize this once someone had called the authorities on him.
This brought forth more pain than he had ever suffered. Forget the beating he had withstood before, from the bygoers on the streets. They bloodied his back with whips, beat him until he was barely conscious. After a few days of this repetitive torture, he was released. His face was bruised and he was sure he had a few broken ribs, but he prioritized his mother and her feelings over any of his own physical pain.
When he returned, his mother was all over him. She kept asking him where he was and what he was doing. She stated multiple times that she was terrified that something bad had happened to it, and it made Apollo feel awful. He didn’t want to have put her through that. She seemed so worried for him, but a voice in the back of his mind insisted that she only worried about him because he provided food and gifts. He knew the voice was wrong, but he could never eliminate the possibility.
He decided to ignore the voice, despite the difficulty it brought. It wouldn’t help him provide for himself and his mother, so there was no reason to acknowledge it. On the topic of providing for himself and his mother, that was another thing that would need to be addressed.
He would keep stealing. This time, though, he would make sure to avoid being caught. He would need better clothes, he would need to learn to quiet his breathing, silence his footsteps. There was a lot to learn, admittedly, but he would do it. He had to do it. He had no other choice.
So that’s what he did. He got better. He got faster. He got stealthier and quieter. He learned what he needed and he bought food for himself and his mother. Yes, perhaps it had taken him years, but he had done it. Now they weren’t just quick pickpocketings. He had learned to steal all of someone’s possessions from right under their nose. He never really felt bad for doing it. It was required for him to survive.
One unsuspecting day, though, a strange thought passed through his head. One of his father. His father was a fairly wealthy Arkasian of an unknown race. That was where he had been born. But his mother already had financial issues at that point. She was healthy and beautiful, but she was used. She was worn and tired. So, looking for a better place to go, she left for Lumos.
Her endeavour wasn’t successful, though. Despite the money it took to move such a long distance, nothing better was introduced for her. Just the imposing laws about magic that were glued to the walls of houses and taverns. So there she stayed. She never spoke Arkasian. In a way, she hated it. It was the tongue of the father that left her to raise a child alone. Despite that, Apollo could understand some very limited Arkasian. He knew how to apologize and thank people, he could understand basic words like ‘bread’ and ‘money’. But that was it. He couldn’t read or write. He wasn’t nearly fluent. It was more like a possibility that just hung in the air, like the floating islands that clouded Arkasia’s skies.
He could speak common fluently though. And as the years passed, he reached fluency in Celestial from the people that walked the streets. He still had trouble writing in Celestial, but he was getting there. His handwriting was messy even in Common, because of the lack of formal teaching, so he rarely wrote. It was a sort of inferiority complex. In his head, his handwriting was so bad that people would mock him if they saw it. So he hid it. He never wrote, only spoke. That also pushed away the possibility of his scripts being stolen and used against him.
But eventually, after a good few years of stealing and much hardship, he was invited to a tavern. It was one of the few taverns in his area that didn’t care about race. As long as you brought money, it would serve you.
Behind the bar stood an imposing dragonborn. He had seafoam green scales and piercing purple eyes.
“So you’re the kid I sent my guys to get.” The creature spoke in a deep voice. He was surprised that the thief he had called for was so young.
“Uhh, yeah. Why did you call me?” Apollo asked. He was wary, and the man didn’t blame him. Being called seemingly out of the blue to a place you’ve never visited was a strange experience.
“I’ve heard tales of your… work. I’ve called you to propose an offer. If you work under me with a higher degree of responsibility, I’ll pay you back in grand.” The dragonborn replied.
“And what does this work… ensue?” Apollo asked in turn.
“You kill people on behalf of the wishes of other people.”
A single sentence stunned the young boy into silence. Killing people? Sure, he’d stolen before, but he’d never taken a life… If he was completely honest, it scared him. But if it paid well, he would have no choice but to.
“And how much would one job pay?” He cautiously asked. The stakes were already high. This would raise them even higher.
“A few hundred silver per job, depending on the difficulty and the risks. You would come in twice weekly and I’ll tell you if you get any new jobs. It's usually only a few commissions a month.” Apollo’s eyes flew wide, but the man didn’t stop speaking. “It’s not quite as expensive here, but that’s because our patrons aren’t haughty officials. They’re people whose lives depend on these jobs. They’re not doing this for money, they’re doing it so they can stay alive. Most other groups commission big enterprises or politicians to kill people who pose a minor annoyance, but we’re different.”
Apollo was stunned. He didn’t know what to say. It was a hefty sum, definitely, but was he willing to take the risk? After a few minutes of turning the possibilities around in his head, he nodded.
“Yeah, I’ll take the job.”
“Great, that mean’s you’ll need a code name.” Apollo’s face held a confused look, to which the dragonborn only chuckled at. “Unless you want authorities hunting you for murder, you’ll want to go by something else. Come back tomorrow, I’ll give you a night to choose the name. By the way, you can call me Ares.”
And with that, the boy left. His eyes were still wide, the rainbow flecks sparkling in the strangely beautiful sunlight. He walked back through the stone streets, winding through alleys and navigating gracefully through crowds.
It wasn’t long before he sat against the wall of the alley that his mother rested in. Recently, she wasn’t waking as much. He would need the money to get her checked out.
Pushing the dangerously negative thoughts to the back of his head, he reached into his mother's bag and pulled out his quarter of the loaf of bread. They had gotten into a habit. Each loaf of bread would last two days, with Apollo having one quarter per day and his mother having the same amount. Recently, though, he was having to feed her because of the increasing scarcity of waking moments.
He ate his quarter quickly, then pulled out his mother’s quarter of bread. He carefully placed each piece on her tongue, helping her swallow in her half-awake state.
After finishing the loaf of bread and eating an apple he had bought for a fair price earlier in the day, he let his eyelids close and drifted off to sleep.
-|-|-|-
He woke with a startle. The morning sun was far up in the sky and shone directly into his eyes, causing a white spot to appear even after he closed his eyes. He groaned, unhappy to wake up. He got up, though. He always did.
He adjusted the blanket over his mother’s shoulders, making sure it would stay for the whole day before retreating to the streets.
He easily navigated back to the tavern. The streets were packed full of people at this time of day but he wove through the dense crowds easily. It only took him about 10 minutes to reach the familiar tavern.
As soon as he entered the tavern, a greeting was called out to him. The voice belonged to Ares, who was drying beer mugs at the bar. He walked over, pulling out a barstool and facing the dragonborn.
“Any jobs?” He asked, grabbing the metal cup full of water that Ares had passed to him and taking a sip. A drip of water leaked from his lips, but the problem was promptly solved by wiping his lips with the back of his hand.
“Yeah. I’ll give you the details at the end of the day, as per usual. The pay is 450 silver, so it’s a fairly risky job. Do you still want to take it? Remember, you can refuse at any time.”
Apollo just nodded, scoffing at the constant worry exerted on him by the older dragonborn. “It’s been years, Ares. I first met you two years ago. I know what’s going on, and I understand the risks. You can stop worrying about me. What are you, my father?”
Ares playfully punched the boy before nodding. “Actually, yeah. I am your father. That means you have to give me some of your pay. Just joking.”
A chuckle was evicted from both of them. For the rest of the day, Apollo just stayed in the tavern, conversing with Ares and the other patrons. It was a bit of a niche place, but it was nice. The people were kind and the mood of the tavern was lovely, with the warm lighting and the slight smell of sweet liquor.
The day passed seemingly quickly. The sun descended through the sky and a pale moon quickly rose. It was difficult to see, though, because of the dark clouds blocking it. Before long, the tavern patrons had left and Ares led the boy to the back room.
They both sat down on either side of a coffee table, with Ares pulling a file from a draw hidden in the wood. He passed it to Apollo, who quickly opened it and flipped through the contents.
“I’ll take the job.” The boy muttered. ‘Carter Dashon. A debt collector praying endlessly on many poor families. He seems quite wealthy, he might have a personal guard. I need to be careful. Has to be finished by…’ The boy's eyes flicked to the date at the bottom of the page. ‘Sunrise, tonight.’
He took the pen Ares passed to him and signed his alias, Ash, at the bottom of the page. He didn’t mind signing things because even if his signature was messy he could just say it was a style choice.
He passed the document back to Ares, thanking the dragonborn as he stood. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Apollo muttered, leaving the tavern and pulling his sleeves further up his arms.
He walked through town, eventually departing from the poor area and traversing towards the middle-class section. He had already memorized the route, so it was just a matter of sneaking in.
Eventually, he came across the fabled house. It was nice, nicer than he’d ever lived in. He had learned to kill the envy that always swelled inside his heart when he saw something he’d never have, though.
He easily climbed up the tree next to the house and picked the lock to the window. He snuck in easily. The lights were off throughout the whole house, and it didn’t seem like there were any guards.
He crept through the house, its layout resting in the back of his mind. There didn’t seem to be anybody there despite the high price and the man’s high position, which didn’t quite make sense. He didn’t think too much about it, though. It wasn’t bad, actually, on the contrary, it was good.
He quickly directed himself to the room where Carter himself slept. With quiet footsteps, he approached the bed and pulled a dagger from a sheath on his thigh. In one quick, fluid motion, he stabbed the man through his throat. Blood bubbled up the man’s throat, rising un a gurgle.
Apollo quickly exited the way he came, his footsteps still not making a sound. With this money, he would be able to afford the treatment for his mother’s illness.
He rushed through the streets, completely disregarding his slightly wet clothing and crashing into a few people despite his usually careful composure.
As he passed Ares’ tavern, he slipped the paper of completion through the door, signalling to Ares that he should send him men to clean the body. He ran to the alley where his mother rested, quickly eating his share of the food before letting his eyes droop closed.
-|-|-|-
When he woke up, the sun wasn’t quite up. It was getting there, but the sky was still dark (though not completely). It was truly beautiful, though. Colourful clouds painted the sky in light tones, reflections of the light emitted by the sun that struggled to rise over the horizon.
Apollo felt the body next to him, gently shaking his mother, trying to get her awake. She seemed strangely… stiff. He worried, but he didn’t think it was much. His mother hadn’t moved her joints very much because of her sickness and that might have been the source.
He tried again, shaking her shoulder. Nothing. So he tried again. And again. And again. But it didn’t work. Finally, he raised his right hand to the side of her neck, searching for a heartbeat. He didn’t feel anything.
He moved his hand down. Surely he must’ve been looking in the wrong place, right? He hovered his hand over her chest, still feeling nothing. He shook her shoulders aggressively, her head shaking back and forth. It couldn’t be happening. It must be some sick, sick joke. He had finally gotten the money to save her, why was it happening now?
He raised his hand to his face, finding it wet. He couldn’t tell if it was blood or tears, but he didn’t particularly care either. He screamed. He screamed until his throat was raw until his eyes were puffy and could no longer produce tears. He sobbed for hours next to her corpse. He couldn’t believe it. It just couldn’t be happening. Something must be wrong.
His mind buzzed. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t move. He existed. He didn’t want to exist. He wanted to pass on with his mother. His dear mother. Why did she leave him? How could she leave him? Did she not promise to stay with him? How could she?
He slipped his hand down to his thigh, grasping the handle of the dagger that had killed so many times.
‘This will be its final victim. Fitting. The murderer murders himself.’ He thought, chuckling at the irony. He was an empty shell. His head was blank and his rainbow eyes seemed dull.
He lifted the dagger, pointing it at his own throat. He would die today. He would die and meet his mother. He would make her proud, he swore it.
There was a loud noise to his left, and he turned his head as a quick reaction. There stood an angry-looking Ares. His face softened, though, once he saw the situation that Apollo rested in.
“Kid, what’s going on? Are you alright?” He asked, slowly approaching the boy.
“I finally got the money. I finally got the money to treat Mum, but she died last night. I don’t know what to do… Please help me. It hurts so much. It feels like thousands of knives are stabbing me over and over and over again. I don't know what to do.” Apollo sobbed.
Ares enclosed the boy in an embrace, frowning at the boy’s sadness. To the dragonborn, the boy was like a son. He had seen him grow up and helped him through tough times. This was certainly the toughest, though.
The boy’s limp body rested in his arms. He seemed tired.
“Apollo. We’re going to the tavern. I don’t care what you say, you can’t bring your mum. Take whatever you need and whatever has sentimental value.” Ares instructed. Apollo didn’t have the energy to fight back. He grabbed the bag and passed it to Ares before crouching down over his mother’s corpse.
Ares thought the boy was just mourning until his gloved hand reached out. It navigated to her face and Ares concluded that he was closing her eyes. Instead, though, he reached into the eye socket of the corpse and pulled the eye right out of the cavity. Upon further inspection, it was a sparkling glass eye. He wiped it on his mother’s clothes before swiping his still-gloved hand over her eyes and standing up. He slipped the eye into a pouch on his hips and looked over at Ares, nodding.
Ares left the alley, leading through the busy streets. To Apollo, it seemed like the walk took forever.
-|-|-|-
Apollo bid a heartfelt goodbye to the dragonborn as they both stood behind the tavern. Ares had helped him through many tough times, but it was time to go.
“I’m going to miss you. The tavern will seem so empty without you here. Come back to Lumos, if not to reminisce, do it for me. If you need help, you can contact these people.” He handed Apollo a slip of paper, patting him on the head when he accepted it with both hands. “They’re part of the Thieves’ Guild and would be happy to help. I know you have no direct involvement, but you helped them so much indirectly, it’s the least they can do.”
“Thank you. For everything. I know the start was kind of rough and I was young and I didn’t know- I’m rambling. You’ve dug me out of deep pits and I can’t express my gratitude for that. I’ll do my best to come back, but I can’t say that this place has many good memories. You’re one of the few. If I don’t, though, I promise to meet you on top of the world. I’ll make you proud.”
“Be safe, kid.”
“I… I love you, Dad.” Apollo said with a slight smile. Tears welled in his eyes but he did his best to suppress them.
“I love you too, Apollo. Make Lumos proud to raise someone like you.”
The Dragonborn leaned down to the boy, opening his arms to welcome his shorter frame in a hug. Apollo wrapped his arms around the older creature’s back as best as he could, though they didn’t quite touch.
“I’ll make you proud.” He whispered.
Then, he left. It was a quiet day, a weekday, but the sun was out shining and the sky was unusually clear. It was a good day to travel. He started with a walk that seemed to last hours before he reached the border of the slums.
He booked a spot at an inn with the silver he had, surprised at the high price of 9 gold or 90 silvers. Nevertheless, he paid the due price.
He was led to a luxurious room up a set of stairs. The sky had grown dark over the hours of walking. He set his bag down in a corner of the room and rubbed his eyes. Walking was unexpectedly tiring.
He slipped his shoes off before sitting on the bedding. It was so soft and the sheets seemed fluffy. There didn’t seem to be any insects either, which was a nice surprise.
Nevertheless, it didn’t take him long to fall asleep. His dreams were filled with figures of people he didn’t know. Some were tall, others were short. Some were humanoid and others were completely different. There was a creature with 4 forearms, for god's sake.
He’d been talking to them in his strange dream before being ripped back by a flurry of hands. These skeletal hands pulled him through a portal of some kind, dumping him out on the side of a wasteland.
Lucid dreaming didn’t come to him often, but when it did, it was surely a sight to see. This deserted wasteland was filled with dust and sand. The sky – if you could call it that – was dark and unseen monsters lurked in the decrepit corners filled with shadow.
Shapes were strewn about everywhere, metallic boxes or spheres toned purple by the strange light that shined down from the sky.
A piece of paper flew right in front of Apollo’s face and he caught it hastily. The cleanly white paper seemed to be blank, but Apollo’s theory was proved wrong when he flipped it over.
Impossibly, the back of the paper replayed one of the boy’s memories from his own eyes. It was the memory of him leaving, just earlier today. Then, the second piece of paper flew by and he jumped to catch it. Luckily, he caught it.
It seemed older. It was stained and slightly wrinkled. This time, the memory appeared on the front. It was when he had first entered the bar. He didn’t know how but he felt the confusion he had felt all those years ago. The feelings that had otherwise faded from his own memory.
He kept exploring. But all of a sudden, bright light shined into his eyes. He realized that he had opened them. In the real world. He was awake.
‘I’ll need to go back to that place.’ He thought, making a mental note in his head. ‘I don’t know how though. How should I go about this?’
“I can help you if you need.” A voice resonated from his head.
‘Oh, so now I’m hallucinating. Great.’ Apollo thought sarcastically.
“That’s not quite it, but good guess. I’m an abyssal creature. I have no name, but I have been dubbed ‘The Great Old One’. I have existed forever, lurking eternally in the shadows.” The disembodied voice called.
‘And, what do you want?’ Apollo thought, almost saying it out loud but worried that someone would look at him strangely.
“We could enter a contract. I would offer you incomprehensible power, for a price. All good things come for a price. But I can’t name that price just yet. First, summon me. You know how, boy.”
It was strange because he did know how to summon the creature. Priorly, he would have no idea how to go about such a strange task with all of its steps, but he just knew. He thought about it for a period before realizing that he had nothing to lose and everything to gain. He didn’t care about dying his soul was low enough a price.
He grabbed the dagger that still rested around his thigh and cut his arm, letting the blood drip out. He hastily drew the summoning circle before bandaging his damaged appendage. He didn’t know why or how, but there were candles in his bag.
“I ever so graciously did that for you. You can thank me if you want, but don’t worry about it too much.” The voice addressed.
As he set each candle down in their respective circles, they were lit. A small flame burned bright at each of the tips of the string. Apollo realized that this was probably also the creature.
‘Hey, “The Great Old One” is too long a name. Can I just call you Gary?’ Apollo thought, drawing a chuckle from the creature.
“If it makes it easier for your mortal mind. I do have a name, but it would be impossible for you to understand it. Maybe as you grow in power.” Gary replied.
After a few minutes, Apollo finished setting up the summoning circle on the floor of the inn.
He stepped into the middle of the circle and held out his hand. He closed his eyes and let his defences fall. His state was almost trance-like. Unknown words slipped out of his mouth (they seemed to be Abyssal, a language he had never learned but somehow understood) and he pulled the only string he had grasped.
“Let my words be heard. Hear my voice and come to me. I am the tug of fate, the pull of a magnet, the host of your powers. Let yourself be seen.” He spoke in Abyssal.
The boy focused all his mind power on the ritual, pushing away any doubts.
“Boo.” A voice sounded from behind him and he jumped, opening his eyes. Rapidly, he turned, finding a tall apparition of darkness. Apollo guessed it stood at about 10’, but he couldn’t tell because it was crouching.
“Gary…” He spoke warily, staring into its beady red eyes. It didn’t seem to have a gender.
Gary chuckled at the name given to him by Apollo. He reached out comfortingly and patted the boy’s head.
“Now, we can discuss a contract. My terms are that you owe me a favour of any type upon my request. In return, I will give you my power.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound all too bad. I can’t imagine that whatever you ask for in the future could be worse than what I’ve already gone through-”
“It can be. And yes, I do know what you’ve gone through. I’ve tainted your mind since birth.”
This startled Apollo, but he decided to pay it no mind. “How is this ‘contract’ thing done?” He asked.
“Well, it’s a soul contract. That means that our souls will be connected and the only way to separate them will be to die. It also means that you will endure incomprehensible suffering if you do not heed my terms. The same applies to me.” Apollo nodded. “In that case, just shake my hand. But first, I need to know your terms of the contract.”
“Lend me your power. It can grow as I grow, I don’t care. It’ll probably take skill to be able to harness anyways.”
Gary nodded and held out his hand. In turn, Apollo reached his own out and grasped the apparition of darkness that rested idly in front of him. Surprisingly, the darkness was… warm.
As he grasped the hand, a sudden flood of energy surged throughout his body and rushed to his head. A dizzy spell fell over him suddenly before it stopped. And then, right in front of him, stood a person with a human figure. The darkness that Gary once was had dispersed and in its place stood a 7’ tiefling with pink hair, red eyes and pitch black horns that siphoned the light out of the environment around them.
“Huh, so this is how you imagined me,” Gary spoke, a smirk apparent on his face. “Aww, you’re so little. That’s cute.”
“Well fuck you too. I’m sorry that I’m hardly 5’ but it’s my subconsciousness’ fault for imagining you as a 7’ monster. Now, stop patronizing me.”
Apollo abruptly remembered the mess of his blood he had left on the floor and temporarily panicked. When he looked down, though, there was nothing except for the snuffed-out candles.
“Oh yeah, about that. The first part of entering the soul contract is me absorbing your blood. Otherwise, there’s no physical tether to link us. The candles that I lit served as a waypoint.”
Apollo nodded slowly, still slightly confused. “Hey, Gary,” He said. “Can you disappear for like- 5 minutes so that I can get out of the inn?” Gary nodded and, in a cloud of pink smoke, disappeared.
Apollo recollected the candles before realizing something. ‘Lumos hates magic. Especially warlocks, because they- because we summon demons. And I’m- I’m a warlock now. I- I need to go. Now.’
He collected his bags and rushed out of the inn, speeding down the stairs and out of the front door, much to the surprise of the innkeeper. He had seemed so calm earlier, but she didn’t have the heart to question the boy.
He rushed through the thinning streets and finally found a merchant’s cart.
“Sir, sir!” He called. “Please could I hitch a ride?” He received a curt nod and ran after the cart, hopping on as soon as he had reached it. He thanked the merchant in between pants and asked where he was headed.
“Estrella Costera,” The man said, receiving a thankful nod from Apollo. As long as they didn’t go to Arkasia, he was fine.
-|-|-|-
For the following four years, he spent his time training his warlock skills. He would sneak off to the forest in the dead of night, practice spells, fight monsters that plagued the towns that he sought respite in for periods of a few weeks at a time, always leaving before authorities caught on to his other job, operating in Edafis’ underworld.
He had a steady flow of income, and soon, his skills increased. He learnt more spells and he grew a greater understanding of what it means to exist in this cursed world of his.
Eventually, as he slept in the back of a potion-seller’s cart, the tarp that hid him was ripped off by an 8’6 figure with a head similar to a dragonborn. And that’s how he met the party.