Monastery of the Seven Forms, Calistril 27, 4590 AR (part V)

Wrapped in a slight magic shadow, Ayalal held his breath for seconds as he absorbed the whole new world. He looked at Lysa, then looked at the horizon, and looked back at Lysa, wordlessly.

She laughed a little.

“It's a pretty sight, is it not? The rest of the world,” she noted.

“Yes,” Ayalal murmured, taking three steps back along the rocky footpath that went down.

Lysa's eyes widened in alarm, and she reached for him, but Yudarh crossed the staff before her, stopping her.

Fascinated, the little boy contemplated the distance, the blue of the sky, its clouds of a peculiar shape and, with half-closed eyes, the Sun itself. He heard again the hawk's high call and this time he saw it, soaring off in a slow flight. The flapping of its wings transmitted pure freedom to him. Then he took a few more steps along the track, noticing another thing. He skidded once, but curiosity gave him extra confidence, helping him balance himself. He squatted by a rock and stood very still watching a solitary flower. The wind shook it, but the plant's resilience surpassed its apparent fragility. He stretched out a finger and gently touched the red petals. It was, without a doubt, the most beautiful being he had ever seen.

“It's a poppy. You can take it with you,” Lysa said, carefully picking up what had caught his eye.

“No.” Ayalal shook his head. “This is it house, it lives here. I can’t take it away. It would be bad for her.”

Lysa did not insist, actually enjoying that show of concern.

A few feet away, Yudarh sat down at the entrance of the tunnel, giving them a serene glance, before losing his thoughts on the vast horizon.

The hours passed. The sun rose higher in the sky until it reached its zenith, while Ayalal asked several questions about what they could see from there, what lived in the forests... and when could they see the sea up close.

Lysa opened her mouth, hesitating at the last answer.

“Well... when you're older.”

Ay blew his cheeks.

“I'm older by tomorrow,” he said.

“Oh, I'm the one who decides how old you must be,” Lysa laughed. “And now we have to go home.”

“Already...?”

“Yes. Master Yudarh has used this spell on you twice, we must not abuse the goodwill of others. We'll come back another day,” she said.

The little boy pouted, but eventually nodded. Shortly afterwards they made their way back through the tunnel, leaving the light of day behind.

When they reached the crossroads, Yudarh motioned with the staff to the road that would take them to the city.

“You can return to the orphanage.” The tone was indifferent and dry, nothing to which they were not accustomed.

Lysa smiled and bowed slightly.

“Thank you for everything, Master. Ay?”

Ayalal looked at Yudarh, clearly hesitant, before approaching, not quite as subtly as he would have liked, and he offered a sudden hug to the tiefling, arms around his legs.

“Thank you, Master Yu,” he murmured, before letting go as quickly as he had grabbed him, going to give Lysa his hand, very embarrassed.

The tiefling did not answer. He stood still, watching them go away for a moment before he returned to his business. Ayalal still looked back in time to see him disappear through the path on the crossroads that led into darkness.

*

Monastery of the Seven Forms, Calistril 27, 4590 AR (part IV)

As they approached the tunnel exit, the draft became stronger. The fire on the enchanted torches faltered without ever extinguishing themselves. A normal torch would last little more than a second.

Yudarh led the way, leaning on the staff that always accompanied him. The staff’s lower end was lined with metal, striking the floor and setting the pace. The path turned into a steep ascent, forcing Ayalal and Lysa to support themselves on the stone to climb, unlike the half-demon whose hooves seemed accustomed to such treks. It being a little-frequented passage, no one had bothered to build stairs to assist in the task.

A clear light, not that of the torches, began to reveal itself, peering at them from a bend that prevented them from seeing any further. Just as they moved past it, Ayalal cried out in pain and instinctively moved his forearm over his eyes. It was as if the light had taken the form of several needles that struck him by surprise.

Yudarh looked back.

“The light may hurt you, but if you really want to see the outside of this mountain, you will endure this pain.”

Unaccustomed to the brightness of the outdoor, Lysa narrowed her eyes.

“Will it hurt him, master?” she wanted to know, worried.

“Possibly, only a headache.” The tiefling resumed his walk. “Do not look directly at the sun, child.”

Ay nodded quickly, still with his arm over his eyes. In an instant, that sudden and unexpected pain had placed a pang of fear in his heart. He had never imagined that daylight would hurt him. He stood where he was, while Yudarh and Lysa's footsteps went on. He took a deep breath and forced one leg to move forward. He held on with his free hand and continued forward, slowly, hesitantly, toward the huge mouth of light, before him.

He had walked a few yards when, without warning, one of his feet struck on a boulder and the boy fell forward, helplessly. Startled, and trying not to get hurt, he reached out with both hands and opened his eyes. Light. Everything seemed made of light that blinded and erased the rest of the world. He closed his eyelids harder, but the light seemed to be trapped inside.

“Ay!” The word was carried away by the strong wind. One of Lysa’s hands touched his back, worried, while the other helped him to get up. “Master, he can’t open his eyes...”

“He can. Little by little” said the half-demon. His voice was not far off.

Ayalal said nothing, but the fists of his hands were clenched. A part of him urged him to run back into the tunnel, stumbling. Another wanted to see, open his eyes and absorb what new things would be there, the images that Lysa told him about in her stories. He waited, the moments slowing down. In the distance, he heard a sound he had never heard before, piercing the wind. It seemed to call him.

“What was that?” He asked, still not daring to open his eyes. There was already so much light with them closed, what would happen if he opened them?

“One of the hawks that inhabits the mountains came to greet you,” Yudarh said.

He became more curious. What would a hawk be and why would it greet him?

Slowly, the pressure he was making to close his eyelids began to ease. Two small gaps revealed a violet portion of his iris. He saw shapes and smudges of his surroundings, but the pain was still there, defying him. He tried to open more of his eyes, but the tears came to smear his vision even more, in a vain attempt to placate his suffering.

When he was about to give up of that effort, one of the figures came over and touched him. The child's body was swept by a chill, caused by a wave of energy, and suddenly the intensity of light diminished. Hesitantly, afraid that it might be a prank, Ayalal just opened his eyes and... widened them.

In front of him, the vast horizon revealed the lowest peaks of the steep mountains where he lived; beneath them, small green patches painted the plain; and, far beyond, a brilliant expanse embraced everything else – it was The Inner Sea.

Monastery of the Seven Forms, Calistril 27, 4590 AR (part III)

Ayalal eventually fell asleep on Lysa's lap. Carefully she stroked his dark hair. She felt sorry for simply taking him to the room where the rest of the children were resting. The same children who tormented him. She hesitated, but in the end she picked him up and she wnet to the older girls' room. There were four of them, counting on her, and all of them had grown up in the orphanage, under the tutelage of Headmistress Drane.

She laid him on her bed beside her, and cuddled him. Ay curled up, as he always did, looking even smaller.

“Sweet dreams,” she whispered to him, before she closed her eyelids too.

*

Ay ran ahead, while Lysa had just climbed the staircase leading to the top of the tunnel. The boy had a strange energy, despite his pallor, especially when he was excited. She followed the path punctuated by light and shadow, and she caught him standing in the middle of the crossroads, frowning, watching the path that led into the darkness.

“I thought I saw something,” he said, as Lysa stood beside him.

“Som... something?” Her voice trembled. “There's nothing there, Ay...”

“I'm sure I saw something,” he insisted, stepping into the darkness.

“No!” Lysa grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him slightly, pushing him to the side where Master Yurdah’s house was. “It was just a feeling”.

Ayalal puffed his cheeks, but he did not insist, glancing over his shoulder at the blackness they left behind. It was not forbidden to go there, but no one dared to do so. They had not even bothered to turn on lights. Or had there been lights and someone or something had put them out? Curiosity gnawed at him.

When they reached the bottom of the tunnel and knocked on Yudarh’s door, he was slow to receive them. They knocked again. Insistence was the key to being received. At last the door opened.

“I already told you...”

“We came to pay you a visit, master,” Lysa said, not allowing him to finish the usual phrase. Both thought Yudarh was too isolated. So much that Ay, worried, asked him, from time to time, if he could not live in the orphanage too.

Ayalal nodded at him.

“And we brought you something,” he said, reaching into his worn coat with sewed elbows that had been worn by other children. Ay produced a wrapping of cloth that Lysa recognized and held it out to the tiefling.

Yudarh frowned, taking the offer, and pulled the cord with a claw, revealing the cookie that was hidden inside. He raised his eyebrows for a moment, glancing at the child, before storing the unexpected present.

“It's been four years since I started taking care of Ayalal,” Lysa said, putting a hand on the top of the child's head and brushing his hair. “He decided to share his gift with us.”

“I see...” he hesitated, running a hand over his chin, thoughtful. “I was about to leave. Do you want to come?”

Lysa blinked.

“Where?”

“To the surface.” One of the corners of Yudarh's lips rose faintly as he saw Ayalal's eyes glow with enthusiasm.

Monastery of the Seven Forms, Pharast 02, 4586 AR (part IV)

Lysa was gasping as she returned with a covered jug tight against her chest. Yudarh raised his eyebrows as the girl entered the room where he was still sitting with the baby in his arms.

"You didn’t have to run, child," he noted, following her with his look, as she set the jug on the table. "He was not going to die any moment soon. Probably.”

"It’s been too long since he last ate, of course I needed to run, master," she muttered, putting one hand on the table and the other on her chest where her heart was threatening to jump from.

Yudarh said nothing and got up.

"Sit down, then," he said, gesturing with his free hand to the place left vacant. "And I do not want any complaints about what you may see me doing."

The girl frowned, but she ended up following his suggestion, sitting on the edge of the armchair and closing her eyelids for a second, taking a deep breath.

Yudarh headed to a low cupboard, where he lingered for a few seconds, accompanied by the clink of glass, until he brought with him a knife and a flask funneled at the mouth. He set them and the baby on the table. He glanced at Lysa before opening the earthen jug she'd brought. He peered at the amount of milk – it would still be enough for the little one to drink a few times. He opened the tapered vial and filled it. Then he raised Ayalal's back and head, supporting them with his hand, and tried to give it to him to drink. The baby grimaced and got milk all over himself, refusing to swallow the liquid, as the teenager had already described. It seemed more like a reaction to an unpleasant taste than some kind of malady.

"Weird babies..." he thought out loud, laying Ayalal back on the table without bothering to clean him. The tiefling reopened the jar and took the knife. He placed a forefinger on the bottleneck and let the blade make a small cut.

"Hey..." Lysa started to get up.

“I do not want any complaints!” Yudarh remembered, while three drops of blood fell on the milk. He set the knife down, closed the flask, and shook it, allowing the two liquids to mix.

She puffed her cheeks and took a fist to her mouth, preventing it from speaking. Lysa recalled herself that she trusted him, that she didn’t believe he would harm a baby, that she owed him more than life itself, and that Yudarh had never intended to collect that debt.

He picked up the baby again and let a drop of milk fall on his parted lips. As a first reaction, Ayalal grimaced as he felt the liquid, but then seemed to taste it. The half-demon offered him a few more drops, allowing him to get used to the different nuance the milk had, before giving him more to drink.

Lysa watched them, expectantly. Finally, Yudarh moved closer to her and lowered himself to return the baby.

"You can continue," he said, handing her the bottle. "I'll prepare more for you to take to the orphanage."

She hesitated, watching him go back to the table.

"Master, this... this... will not hurt him? Can it not make him... like it?”

"I'm counting on you to ‘wean’ him of my blood," he replied. "This is to be kept between us. And don’t you dare give him your blood, or I'll be very upset.”

“Because…?”

Yudarh looked away from what he’s doing, looking at her, keeping his hand dripping over the jar.

"Because if something were to go wrong, and he wasn't able to control the call that the blood might have on him... he possibly would have more tendency to drink one he already knows. And if that happens, I'll handle it.”

Lysa's gaze dropped to Ayalal, who sucked the milk, slowly, sleepily. She could well imagine how master Yudarh would deal with a bloodthirsty half-vampire. She shivered.

Monastery of the Seven Forms, Pharast 02, 4586 AR (part III)

“Holy water?” Lysa could not imagine that such was possible. “But it's just a baby!”

In her arms, Ayalal shuddered with sobs of pain.

"It doesn’t stop it from being inherently evil or…"

"He isn’t evil!" she almost yelled, interrupting the half-demon, which only made the baby start crying even louder. "Oh, I'm sorry, Ay..." she whispered immediately, caressing the top of his head and starting to cradle him. “Everything will be all right, my dear.”

Yudarh smiled to himself, returning to them and holding out a hand with sharp claws that grasped the boy's arm carefully. Lysa looked at him with suspicion.

"I didn’t say he was evil," he remarked, observing the reddish halo that the pale skin exhibited. "Only that there was a possibility. Holy water affects evil beings from other planes as well as the undead. Well, there are spells that detect the evil that a creature can emanate, just as they detect the undead. Your baby is not an undead, unless he disguises it very well. At the moment, I can only recall one thing that he might be – a dhampir.”

Lysa digested the word, continuing to cradle Ayalal.

"Does that mean he's the son of a vampire?"

"It does mean that, and it means it is information you should keep for yourself. There are those who are afraid and hate half-vampires and they would be quite capable of pursuing him. It also means that he should be kept away from holy water and any kind of positive energy. If someday someone wants to use a healing spell on him, do not let them. It could kill him. If necessary, bring him to me.”

The inflammation of the area where the holy water had hurt the skin disappeared after a more prolonged touch of Yudarh.

"And... Does he drink blood?" Lysa’s question was hesitant, not sure if she wanted an answer.

"That's a sensitive issue. They like blood, it is a substance that can cause them addiction, like a drug. But there are those who can withstand it. And, well, there's no harm in drinking blood, from my point of view. It's as bad as eating meat and fish," he added, after noting the girl's frown. "But prejudice will be a cruel knife if he decides to follow that path."

The baby's cry dropped to a subtle, tired sniff. Lysa caressed his face, thinking about all Master Yudarh had told her. She let Ayalal grab her finger and bring it to his mouth to suck on him. Where was the mother of that baby?

"But does that explain why he doesn’t eat?" murmured the young woman.

"No. Dhampirs are a little stronger than a normal baby, but even they die if they do not eat. Leave the baby here and get some milk. Hurry up.”

Lysa blinked. Leave Ayalal there?

“But...”

“Either you go now, or you can go away with your baby. And he will starve to death,” Yudarh said.

She blew her cheeks.

“It's ok. But do not hurt him again.”

“Or...?” He smiled, holding out his arms to the baby.

Lysa grumbled through her teeth, and finally handed him the baby. Despite her grumpiness, she was capable of entrusting him her life. She didn’t believe the Master would harm a child.

Yudarh watched her leave with quick strides, before returning the attention to what he had on his arms. His expression softened as he sat in his armchair, not too close to the fireplace.

"You came to join the band of pariahs, Ayalal," he murmured, examining the little boy face.

Now that he had stopped crying, the baby was watching him with a certain amount of attention, trying to assimilate the new voice and the new contours that were made known to him. Yudarh did a subtle gesture with his hand and whispered three words, allowing a weak spell to touch the child and reveal to him if it really was evil. The small presence didn’t emit any detectable aura. For now, he wouldn’t have to worry.

He sat back in the armchair, pensive. Were there any vampires in the city, perhaps hidden in the darkness of the galleries that were buried in the mountains? He didn’t believe that one had passed under his nose, but caution was never too much. He would investigate whether Ayalal's father would walk there. And if he was...

His red eyes narrowed as the tiefling contemplated the fire.

Monastery of the Seven Forms, Pharast 02, 4586 AR (part II)

“Master Yudarh...”

"How many times have I told you not to come here?" His tone was as hard as his look. In a clawed hand he held a staff which surface was clad in strange black symbols. He always walked with it and Lysa suspected it was magic. In his other hand was a closed bag.

"I know... but I really need your help," the teenager noted, looking down at Ayalal. "I needed you to help me take care of this baby. I'm not sure what to do with him... he does not eat, Master”.

Yudarh took a deep breath. Behind Lysa, the door latch swiveled by itself, unlocking it. He passed near the girl and opened the door, leaving it as it was as he advanced inside. Lysa hurried to follow the tip, before he changed his mind, and walked in, closing the door behind her. As he made his way down a narrow corridor, the lamps hanging from the ceiling lit up, illuminating their passage.

She did not know the house well, but visited it enough times to know that everything could be potentially magical and dangerous, in the words of Master Yudarh himself. They passed by three closed doors, and ended up in what was a mixture of bedroom, living room and kitchen. As soon as he laid a hoof inside the compartment, the fireplace before them crackled and the flames burst from the wooden logs. Yudarh threw the bag into a darker corner and leaned the staff on the wall to undress the black cloak he wore on his shoulders.

Lysa waited in silence, casting a glance at the shelves set on one side, filled with ancient tomes and mysterious flasks. The light of the flames touched them, producing reflections of other colors. She smiled a little. It was just as she remembered, when she had lived there, after Yudarh had found her in the mountains.

"I'm not a healer, do you know that?"

The question caught her attention, causing her to stare at him. A red tail oscillated behind his back. The great majority of the people in the city considered him a demon, and it was indifferent to them that he had never harmed anyone, that he lived in an isolated tunnel, alone with himself, away from trouble. Only his very existence was enough to wish him death. Lysa believed that this was why Yudarh did not want her there, so that they would not see her associated with a creature who was, in fact, a son of some demon.

"But you’re wiser than many," she noted, moving closer. “And more... understanding”.

He sniffed, rolling his eyes.

"The baby, you say he doesn’t eat," he said, going straight to the point. “Where did he come from?”

"He was left at the orphanage's door. I found him two days ago, in the morning," she explained. "I don’t know if he has any disease, but he's rather pale."

Yudarh took him from her arms in a swift movement that made her startle, afraid that Ayalal might get hurt. He walked with him to near the flames, watching him closely. The baby's face twitched a little, keeping his eyes tightly closed, in an effort Lysa probably didn’t notice. Yudarh moved away from the stronger light, noticing the baby’s face relaxing. He laid him on the table, unrolling it from the blanket that protected him from the cold.

"Does he have any marks on his body?" He glanced at Lysa.

"No, just this pallor. That I have noticed”.

“Hm”. Yudath turned away from him and went to one of the shelves with flasks. He looked at them for a moment and took one, uncorking it on the way back. Yudarh poured a single drop over his forefinger.

“What is that?” Lysa murmured.

There was no answer. Yudarh took Ayalal's arm, rolling up the sleeve of his ruffled clothes, and touched his skin with the finger.

Suddenly, a piercing scream of pain cried out from the newborn's throat. Lysa acted on instinct, tearing the baby of the table and hugging him against her as she glared at the half-demon, shocked.

Yudarh sighed and shrugged, corking the bottle again.

"It's painful, but that amount will not kill him. And it was good to have me testing it on purpose, than to be taken by surprise by it," he remarked, putting the flask back to the others. "What's in here is not supposed to be anything... for a normal baby. It’s holy water.”

Yudarh and Lysa, by Aergia

Monastery of the Seven Forms, Pharast 02, 4586 AR

Seated in the kitchen, folded over, with her elbows resting on the knees, Lysa was attempting to contain her frustration as she watched Ohlara, the wet nurse, trying to feed Ayalal. Two whole days had passed and, for some reason, he had refused to drink the milk.

"Maybe it's some illness". Ohlara would not stop repeating that, irritating Lysa until she could no longer listen to it. "It would be best to take him to a healer, try to figure it out. There may be a knot inside him... or the gods prefer that he does not live.

The teenage girl made a grimace that contorted her face, which was already somewhat contorted on one side. When she was a little girl, before entering the orphanage, a burn had marred her skin from the cheek to the brow and had almost blinded her.

“Maybe it's better. Stay with him a little while, please. I'll talk to Mrs. Drane" she said.

*

She left with hurried steps, heading for a small house two streets away. As she approached, she slowed the pace and frowned slightly, unhappy with what she saw. Six people were waiting at the door of the healer. One of them held a cloth around her hand, drenched in blood that was dripping on the floor; another, wan, was coughing, and the sound of her chest was a warning for Lysa to keep at distance; there was also a woman with a baby on her lap, with despair in her eyes.

"What are we going to do, Ay?" she murmured to the little boy, thinking to herself. Ayalal let out an opinionated low grumble. He had not cried again after that first time, not out of hunger, or to change his swaddling clothes, nothing. Maybe he really had an illness. The baby reached out a hand, seeming to want touch her chin. It was incredible how he still had the strength for it. If she had not eaten for two whole days, she would not move. “You're strong, aren’t you? There’s no way you have a disease…”

She lowered her face. When she felt him touch her scar, she remembered someone who might be able to help them.

Lysa turned around, making Ay mutter another grunt and pick up his arm. She moved away from the most populous part of the city, penetrating into less clear streets, where the illumination was worse. The houses were also less, some of them completely empty, abandoned by those who had not been able to live so long under the mountains. She made her way down a flight of stairs that had been carved into the stone itself. The steps stole her breath with their height, and she entered a tunnel leading into a darker area. The everlasting torches, fastened to the walls, were spaced at too wide intervals, creating shadows of irregular movements. They reminded her of creatures waiting to attack her. She swallowed and move forward, clutching the baby.

Further on, the road came to a crossroads. The tunnel on her left side would lead to the surface, but it was a half-forgotten route that probably only the monks took – it was from there that she had come to the city. In front of her was her destination, following the same pattern of light and shadows; but on her right side, a well of darkness was opened in the wall. She shivered. In the orphanage, stories were told of people who had been dragged by monstrous claws to passages like that, that sometimes the whispers of the dead were heard in the air. She wanted to believe that it were all lies that people told children. Furthermore, regular patrols surveyed the unlit parts of the city to make sure no dangerous creatures lurked there. And there was no official record of disappearances or attacks.

She took a deep breath, held her breath, and ran to the other side. Nothing caught her in the way, no sharp-clawed hand out of the blackness. She sighed, a little relieved, and felt at the same time ridiculous that at that age she still paid attention to the silly stories that were told among children.

She continued her way to the end of the tunnel, where the stone formed a house with a low door. Although there was a window next to it, there was no light coming from inside. Lysa hesitated a moment before knocking. She did not get any response. She knocked again, harder. Nothing.

She cursed, frustrated. She could wait for a bit, but she didn’t know when he would return. Or if he was just inside and didn’t want to open the door. Maybe it would be better come back later.

She turned and suddenly realized that she could not see the tunnel in front of her. A black figure blocked her way. She jumped back, squeezing Ayalal against her with too much force. The baby shrieked low, with the abruptness. For a moment, she thought it was a being of darkness that would kill her. She looked up, peering at a red man's face. His hair was as white as snow, but what most drew attention were the two black horns that grew from the forehead and arched back. He stared at her, with two orbs of an intimidating red. He struck a hoof on the floor, making her tremble.