The Blade Of Sgrios

Sen the Moonshadow Elf

Sen blinked the blinding sun out of his eyes. He was happy he didn't have to work early- he was definitely not a morning person.
He yawned and rubbed his eyes before opening his dresser.
His clothes were old, ragged. Filled with the sense that they had been on many adventures in the past, but not anymore.
Now, he was older. Wiser. More mature.
He knew that in order to survive, he had to walk in the middle of the path, not at the edge.
He didn't pick fights, he didn't argue. He just tried to stay in the background, invisible.
He had packed his axes, still shining brightly, even then, as if they were begging to be used, into a box and shoved it under his bed. He hadn't even looked at the box, aside from when he checked under the mattress to see where all of his lost things had gone off to. He saw it just sitting there every time, pleading with him, tempting him to open it, but he ignored the urge every time.
Once he was dressed, Sen fixed his white hair back into a plait. It never fully tied- there was always some small part that stuck up, but he didn't care anymore. It was normal.
Even from his bedroom, he could hear the noise of people outside. So many people. He could always hear them, it was never completely quiet. It helped him sometimes, when he tossed and turned, trying to sleep but never being quite calm enough to do so. Hearing those voices, knowing he was surrounded by the kind, caring people of the Silvergrove, it helped him relax.
He stepped out of the house, his boots hitting the stone outside his house with a small thud. Rain was drizzling in such small drops it was like a mist, falling on them.
Eventually, the fog covered the entire ground, and he could barely see the houses on either side of him, despite how narrow the paths were, and figures passed him like ghosts, covered almost entirely by the haze.
One such figure, as it got closer, eventually emerged as his friend, Marl. Her hair was damp and hung about her face in threads, but it was definitely her.
She grinned at him in that childish way she liked to, her blue eyes shining through the fog.
"How are you?" She asked excitedly, wrapping her arms around him.
"Uh... Good... I'm good." He said breathlessly as all the air was forced out of his lungs.
She giggled. "Sorry, I forget how strong I am sometimes, " she mumbled as she pulled away.
"Yeah... It's fine, Marl."
"Oh right! I came here to tell you something! That letter you said you wanted? It came!" She exclaimed as she dug into her pocket and pulled out a cream-colored envelope that had already been ripped open.
"Did you...?"
She smirked and crossed her arms. "Maybe..."
It didn't matter. This was so important it didn't matter. At all. This letter held the answer.
Would he survive, or not?
The mark on his arm seemed to burn as he opened it, like it was saying that if he opened the letter, he would be in danger. Or rather, it would be in danger.
He carefully pulled out the paper. It was thick, and very durable. He could feel the magic radiating off of it already.
As he carefully unfolded it with shaking hands, he could feel Marl's eyes on him, watching as he read each line.
Most didn't seem important, just warnings about the dangers of the mark, all he already knew.
But the last one...
'The Blood of Sgrios, if dropped onto the mark, will destroy it.'
Sgrios... Where had he heard it before? He knew it from somewhere... But where?
He didn't have long to question it, however, as his thoughts were interrupted by a man bashing into him, brushing something soft against his arm.
His eyes followed the elf, angrily, and saw two large, feathery wings sprouting out of his lower back.
"Hey!" He yelled, partly in annoyance, partly in confusion.