The Eighth Son

Second

Vertraen;
Eren walked into the room that we shared, frowning. "What seems to be the matter, runt?"

"Vertrane, do you think me to be useless?"

"No. You would serve purpose if a creature were ever to attack. You would make excellent bait."

"I am serious, brother."

"No. You are not useless. Adron just feels that way for he does not know of your.... problem...."

"Which you should not know of either. It was not your place to ask the Varlas."

"But it is a good thing that I know. Otherwise, you would have been found out months before now."

"It is not my fault. I should not have this. I am not the seventh. I am the eighth."

"Has Roden realized yet?"

"No. He does not know."

"Well, you should make him aware of this fact before his selection."

"I cannot. Adron would kill me for that."

"Roden will die for you not doing that."

"I must not. He will look for explanations that I cannot give. And never has there been an eighth son with the scar."

"You must tell the Varlas, then. They will know what to do."

"No. I must bear this burden alone. Ahh!" he doubled over in pain, clutching his head. His eyes filled with blue and he closed them. I held him steady when his leg gave way. I helped him onto the cot and he sat down.

"They're getting worse, aren't they? What did you see?"

As his eyes opened and returned to their normal brown, he looked up at me. "The Varlas cannot help. I must wait until the Seeker comes."

"I fear you will be dead before the seventh day."