Rewriting His Past

Disavowing

"They've accepted me," Dusk said to anchor the letter's contents. He had opened it as fast as the letter opener would allow him. All but tearing it instead of cutting it with the small blade. The contents were simple. They had reviewed his case and deemed his request valid. "It's accepted." Dusk looked up at Sage; he drew in a breath on his pipe and stayed quiet. It was over. "It's accepted." Dusk repeated it, setting the tone for what it meant.

"Sorry, as a parent, I find this a little sad." Sage said, bringing the pipe down from his mouth to inspect it. "It would break my heart to have any of my kids do this."

"The only scars your kids bear are the ones they created themselves." Dusk said, his voice quiet. Sage had seen his scars, and he had too. Sage was his required agent to file for the disavowing. Dusk hadn't been shy about sharing that information with Sage. It was his only way out, after all. His all-or-nothing move

"Your father," Sage started, then, with a shake of his head, corrected himself. "The Duke tried."
Did he think so? Duke thought about it, and yes, his financial aide was helping him right now. He was grateful for that. He stepped in when he got home to stop his siblings. Yet, not once had he stopped his mother... Dusk shivered and buried any and all thoughts of her in the deepest part of him. He wanted to move on from them and her.

"I'm sure he did his best." Dusk offered the hall master the best choice of words he had. Dusk put the paper and documentation of his new last name, Wooddancer, away in his storage. It was time for him to leave. He picked up the teleportation token that he left on the table. The token held more weight than the wood would allow. Not physical weight but emotional one. It was his ticket out of here, one he had been waiting on since he was eight years old. Ten long years are coming to an end. No coming to a start.

"I should get going." Dusk grasped the token in his hand so hard that his fingers were turning white. "They did recommend I come right away." He was not going back into that house because, from today forward, he was not a Black, but his own family—the Wooddancers. The idea was freeing. It was more than an idea now. He was free.

"True, and we wouldn't want you here once they receive the news." Sage sighed and rubbed his eyes. Dusk didn't envy him that, but it was part of his job. Dusk never doubted that he could do his job, because he did it. He did it very well. Sage was also honored. Otherwise, he would have given Dusk right back to the Blacks when he first asked for his aid in the disavowing. Despite it being a part of a hall master's duty to aid troubled children,

"I am supposed to have twenty-four hours." It gave the dissident time to leave the area. No one disavowed their family and expected peaceful partings. Only the most extreme cases got permission to disavow. Of course, being part of a noble family, nothing would be straightforward. Dusk closed his eyes for a moment, of course. Dusk thought with pain throbbing his head. Seeking freedom was never simple.

"We're lucky that the Black family are not morning people." Sage said, flatly telling Dusk without saying it outright. He was not getting the grace period. Not surprising, the Black family was both respected and feared. There's nothing like getting on their good side by sneaking information to them. His mother, the Duchess, held a great deal of pride in her family's legacy. Having him leave and disavow would stain the family name.

"We shouldn't take the Black family's nocturnal nature for granted." Dusk grimaced at the words his—no, he reprimanded himself—the Duke had spoken to him that morning. Came out of his mouth; it was close to eating mud. It felt so wrong, slimy, and filthy. Dusk's mouth twisted and was pulled into a straight line. He may have been the kindest, but that didn't mean repeating his words had to feel good. Dusk needed to get to the teleportation gate fast.