Alazarr and the Silver City

Chapter One - Myth or Legend

The candlelight glinted off Jonathan's pendant; his family's crest, there were days he loved that pendant and days he despised wearing it. There were many good things he loved about his family but there were also downfalls and one of them was sitting across from him at dinner.

His father.

His father, Typhon Ambrose, opened the door to his study.

Jon entered the room and his father followed him in. Jonathan was about sixteen at the time.

The look his father had set his teeth on edge. He came to the front of the desk. The room was dark and dad left it that way. The only light coming from the lit hallway behind them.

His father put his hand on his shoulder in silence, squeezing it and then walking around his desk. He stood there a moment, "I heard what happened to day at school. For what those boys did." He said darkly as his eyes rolled up to him. He took his seat behind his desk.

Jon grimaced, his black eye stung as he did so, hiding behind his fringe. He tightened his fist, "They were being cruel to Elara. I would do it again-"

"I didn't say you should regret it.. I'm preparing you for the next time." He pulled a drawer open and handed a book to his son. Then taking a small rabbit out of its cage.

He set it on the desk.

"Read the inscription."

"But!" Jonathan panicked.

"-Read it." Typhon said the slightest edge to his voice that quenched any chance he had at dodging this. He wouldn't let him avoid it anymore.

He relented and flipped to the page, the title read: Nerve Manipulation.

He looked up at him once more.

His father answered him, "If they want to know cruelty then they need to learn some empathy." A smile crept onto his face. "For that you need to practice. Grow stronger if you wish to win next time they mess with your sister."

Jonathan nodded subtlety, his eyes back to the rabbit. He stretched out his hand starting to tense his fingers, his mana crystal lighting up. He had refused his father in doing this time and time again. Yet his father would not give up, day and night. Again and again he'd bring it up, his patience thinning more and more he would not relent and more and more He knew that anger was coming for him. Was it so bad to do this, to learn to be stronger?

His lips parted as he was about to say the spell. Unwillingly his eyes darted back to the rabbit's gaze. Seeing its fear, and feeling it to the same degree.

His bruised ribs caught his breath as he exhaled, the hatred for those landed blows. What would have happened to Elara if he hadn't been in the way.

He closed his eyes tightly thinking of Elara, this was for her -for her sake and her future. He was going to have to grow up... for her. He was all she had in that school, in that hell. This was the only way to stop them. To make it end.

Right?

He forced the first word out and paused, the spell built up and was crackling at his fingertips. But he wouldn't finish his sentence, watching the little white creature struggle like it was Elara under his father's grasp.

Mother was right.. There had to be another way. Something else, anything else! Anything ANYTHING!

The spell backfired on him.

Like burning threads of fire climbing up inside his hand and up his arm. The sensation of needle-like points searing into his bones relentlessly. His hand cramping up frozen in that tensed position, he caved over speechless. His knees hit the floor as a scream came coughing up his throat.