Chapter Text
Wrapped snugly in a long striped scarf and well-worn coat, Professor Widogast makes his way, old bones creaking, across the snow covered campus of the Soltryce Academy. The air frosts his breath and he grumbles, keeping his arthritic hands wrapped around an old rod of hand-warming in his pocket. As his foot hits the stairs, it skids on ice and he teeters dangerously before a pair of purple-gray hands reaches out to steady him.
“Are you all right, Professor?” the student’s voice asks.
“Ja, I am quite all right, young ma-“
Caleb’s voice cuts off as he glances up to the youngster’s drow features and hauntingly similar coif of silvery-white hair. He- she? They tilt their head in concern as tears well up in the professor’s eyes. “Professor Widogast, is something wrong?”
“Nein, no, everything is fine. You just reminded me of someone I lov- knew- once.”
“I’m sorry, professor.”
“Nein, alles gut.” He shakes his head to clear it, and looks at the young student once more. “I am glad to see drow students are being accepted here at the Academy. Is everyone treating you well?”
“Yes. Well, mostly. I get teased, but it’s not because of my race. It’s mostly when I… well, I read while I’m walking and sometimes I run into stuff.” They smile sheepisly and step forward to open the door. “Actually, professor, I was wondering if you could help me with something.”
“Jah, of course, what is it?”
“I had some questions about my dunamancy homework… My mother seems to think it very important that I learn this, in case we ever visit our relatives, in…” they lower their voice to a whisper, “in Xhorhas. She’s a diplomat.” Looking at the student now, Caleb notices subtle hints that their drow heritage is mixed with another elven, or half elven, line perhaps.
“Anyway, she said someone called Astrid told her to have me ask you because it’s your specialty.”
Caleb coughs. “Yes, that is very astute of her.” He chuckles softly to himself. “I did learn from a prodigy after all.”
Widogast’s office is cluttered with books and sigil filled papers litter the table. His young drow student, brow furrowed in concentration, draws a glimmering web of runes in the air with their fingers. Time seems to slow, just for a moment.
“Jah, that is right. Concentrate…”
A knock at the door startles them and Widogast waves a quick hand to dispel the errant magic. One of the cats jumps off the bookshelf and pads to the door, purring.
“Come in,” he calls.
“Caleb…” the elegant visitor says warmly as he glides into the room, throwing back the hood to a long black cloak that brushes the floor. “Ah, I did not know you would have a student at this late hour.”
“We were just wrapping up.”
The youngster glances wide-eyed at this new, older drow, taking in the swoop of silken hair on their brow, the hand resting familiarly on the professor’s shoulder, and the slight color to Widogast’s cheeks. His accent is a familiar one, like home. “A-are you from Xhorhas?”
“Yes. I am Essek of den Thelyss.”
“You’re den Thelyss?!”
“Yes. And you, are the diplomat’s child?”
A nod. “Mother didn’t tell me you would be visiting.”
“My business here is… personal. She does not need to know.” A wink. Essek glances down at the scattered papers. “Dunamancy, is it? Let me see what you’ve been learning.”
Trembling young hands start weaving through the air again, followed by a steadier pair. “May I?” He gently adjusts their arm position, guiding them through the difficult last binding rune. Time stands still, snowflakes hovering in the air beyond frosty panes.
“I did it. I did it! Thank you, Mister Thelyss.”
Caleb smiles, his eyes crinkling into their own web of lines, the runes of time gone by. “You would have made a good teacher, Essek.”
“You made a better one.” They look intently into Caleb’s eyes, meaning passing unspoken between the two. The student shuffles their books into a bag and scoots under the two wizard’s shared gaze, calling out, “Thank you professor!” as they dash into the hall.
Essek shuts the door with a gentle wave and gathers Caleb’s soft, wrinkled hands in his own, barely changed.
Caleb sighs. “I am old, Essek. Hardly a shadow of the man you once loved.”
Essek huffs. “You will always be a young man to me.” They reach up, tucking an escaping wisp of hair behind the round human ear, the vibrant ginger now faded to venerable silver. Age has graced Widogast with a quality of noble wisdom befitting both his profession and person. He leans forward and whispers into that ear, “I missed you so much, Caleb.” Turning their head, Essek presses a kiss onto their love’s soft cheek, decorated with smile lines. “I am so sorry I couldn’t tell you where I’d gone.”
He pulls back to see those familiar blue eyes full of tears. Caleb chokes through a sob, “I thought I’d never see you again!”
“Oh beloved, I’m so, so sorry-” Essek reaches out, and hesitates, feeling entirely inadequate for the decade they’ve been gone. He doesn’t deserve to come back.
Instead, he’s pulled into a crushing hug, Caleb’s adventuring strength still surprisingly intact in his elder years. “Please, don’t ever leave like that again.”
“I won’t. I promise.” Essek means it. There’s so little time left in Caleb’s human lifespan. Already regretting the years they’ve missed, they intend to spend every moment possible with their love until the day he passes.
And, well, with what he found during his absence… they now have the choice to continue loving one another beyond these lifetimes.