Sorcerer's Shadow

"Mother," I projected my thoughts back, as lucidly as I could manage, "I desire one of your eggs."

She didn't assault me, nor did I perceive any confusion or indignation at my proposition. That was promising. My spell had drawn her here, and she would likely be open to negotiation. A surge of anticipation began to bubble within me, which I swiftly suppressed. My focus returned to the Vorgan in front of me.

This stage was almost akin to a ritual, albeit not quite. Everything hinged on what the Vorgan thought of me.

"What do you propose in exchange?" she questioned.

"I promise it will have a prolonged life," I replied. "And fresh, succulent meat without any struggle, along with my companionship."

The creature pondered my offer for a moment before asking, "And what will you expect in return?"

"I would request assistance in my ventures, in line with its capabilities. I seek its wisdom and its friendship," I responded.

Following this, there was a period of silence. She stood there, perched over the carcass of the Baku, observing me. Finally, she declared, "I will approach you."

The Vorgan moved closer to me. Her claws were long, furred, and sharp, but seemed more adapted for swift running than for combat. Having feasted, a Vorgan often finds itself too heavy to fly and hence, must run to elude predators.

She stood before me, peering intensely into my eyes. It was strange to witness intellect in the beady fox-like eyes, to engage in near-human communication with a creature whose brain was no larger than the first joint of my finger. It felt somewhat unnatural—a reality I wouldn't fully grasp until much later.

After some time, the Vorgan "spoke" again.

"Wait here," she instructed, before turning to spread her bat-like wings. She had to sprint a few steps before lifting off, leaving me alone once again.

Solitude...

I pondered what my father might say if he were still alive to utter any words. He'd surely disapprove, considering Sorcery too "Terran" for his liking, too engrossed as he was in striving to become an Imperion. contemporary romance

My father passed away when I was just fourteen. My mother was never a part of my life, although my father would occasionally grumble about the "Sorceress" he had wed. Prior to his passing, he exhausted all his lifetime savings from running an inn in a futile pursuit to assimilate further into Imperion society—he purchased a title. Consequently, we attained citizenship and found ourselves connected to the Imperial Sovereign Sphere. This link granted us the ability to perform magic, an art my father endorsed. He found a Wizard from the Left Hand of the Vorgan to instruct me and strictly prohibited Sorcery. He then enlisted a swordmaster to teach me Imperion-style swordsmanship and explicitly forbade Terran fencing.

However, my grandfather remained a significant presence in my life. One day, I explained to him that, even upon reaching adulthood, I would lack the height and strength to excel at swordsmanship in the way I was being trained, and that wizardry held no fascination for me. He never expressed any criticism towards my father, but he began tutoring me in fencing and Sorcery.

Upon my father's demise, he took solace in the fact that I was an adept Wizard capable of self-blinking; he remained oblivious to the fact that such actions caused me physical discomfort. He had no idea how frequently I resorted to Sorcery to disguise the bruises inflicted by Imperion bullies who would corner me, venting their disdain for a Terran harboring high ambitions. Moreover, he was entirely unaware of Liora's instructions on how to move silently and navigate through a crowd unnoticed. These skills proved invaluable as well.

I'd venture out under the cover of darkness, armed with a hefty stick, seek out a lone tormentor and leave him nursing a few fractures.

I often ponder if I could have rescued my father had I dedicated more effort towards mastering Sorcery. The uncertainty lingers.

His departure did, however, afford me more time to delve deeper into Sorcery and fencing, despite the additional responsibilities that came with running an inn. I began to flourish as a Sorcerer to the point where my grandfather admitted he had nothing more to teach me and guided me towards the next stage of my journey. This next step was...

She returned to the glade, her wings flapping in the wind. This time, she flew directly towards me, settling down before my folded legs. Held delicately in her right claw was a small egg.

She stretched it out towards me.

Suppressing my elation, I reached out with my steady right hand. The egg dropped into my palm, surprising me with its warmth. It was small enough to fit comfortably in my hand. Carefully, I tucked it inside my jacket, close to my chest.

"Thank you, mother," I mentally conveyed to her, "May you enjoy a long life, abundant food, and numerous offspring."

"And to you," she responded, "long life and successful hunts."

"I am not a hunter," I informed her.

"You will be," she prophesied. With that, she pivoted away, spread her wings, and took flight, disappearing from the glade.

In the subsequent week, I narrowly avoided crushing the egg, nestled close to my chest, on two separate occasions. Firstly, during a skirmish with some troublemakers from the House of Cetan; and secondly, while I thoughtlessly held a box of spices against my chest at the inn.

These instances served as a wake-up call. Determined to prevent any further danger to the egg, I equipped myself with diplomatic skills to avoid physical altercations. Simultaneously, to safeguard the egg during my work at the inn, I decided to sell the establishment.

Acquiring diplomacy proved to be the more challenging task. It contradicted my innate tendencies, and I had to exercise constant vigilance. However, in due course, I found myself able to respond courteously to an insulting Imperion. In hindsight, this skill more than anything else, prepared me for my future success.

On the other hand, parting with the inn was more of a relief. Since my father's passing, I had been managing it single-handedly, making a decent living but never truly identifying myself as an innkeeper.

done.co