Book Two: KOTLC One-shots and More

Inflictor (Bronte POV)

A/N: @charlottepiggy asked for some Bronte back story. Finding his voice was particularly difficult—especially since there are some continuity issues surrounding Bronte—but hopefully this feels authentic and provides a decent theory as to why Bronte is the way he is!

"This has to stop," Bronte whispered, his head in his hands. "This has to stop."

He had hit an all-time low.

Life wasn't easy for Bronte. It hadn't been for years.

Not since the day he'd manifested as their world's first—and so far, only—Inflictor.

He'd been a young elf—he presumed about fifteen years old, give or take—and was attending their world's only school—recently named Foxfire.

And he'd been courting a girl about his age. Elnora was beautiful with her pale blue eyes, alabaster skin and honey blonde hair. She was also gentle and sweet, and a bit shy. But they were fast friends when they'd met as small children. Their society was much smaller in those days, so everyone knew everyone else.

But Elnora? She was special. And she seemed to think that Bronte was special too.

Until he manifested.

He couldn't completely blame her. They'd been taking a walk through the streets of Atlantis—which at that time was still above the ocean and populated with both elves and humans—and they'd had a minor disagreement about the way the Council was handling some burgeoning unrest between the ogres and the goblins.

It hadn't even gotten that heated.

But he felt a sickening rage he'd never known before as his vision rimmed with red and the rage poured out of him. It was relief for the briefest of moments, until the furious storm passed and his eyes cleared. Then, to his horror, he saw Elnora lying on the ground, convulsing, a look of combined pain and terror on her beautiful face.

And the busy streets of Atlantis had come to a halt, all eyes wide and staring.

Bronte, crying copiously, crumpled to the ground next to Elnora. "I'm so sorry!" He told her again and again. "I don't know what happened, I don't know how I did that, I'm so sorry!"

But he was drained and terrified and mortified over what he'd just done. Elnora has stopped writhing, and the last thing Bronte remembered was the pain receding from her eyes as confusion took over.

It wasn't until later that he learned that the shock of what he'd just done had caused his body and mind to shut down. He'd lost consciousness, and he awoke at home in his bed.

Was it possible it had just been a dream?

But when he began to sit up, he realized his mother was in the room with him, sitting in a chair by his bed, watching him. "How are you feeling?" She asked gently.

He hardly knew what to say. "What happened?" Was all he managed to get out.

She reached for his hand. "Well...it would seem you have manifested an ability." She explained that he had inflicted pain upon Elnora—and assured him that Elnora had been assessed by a physician and there was no mark of physical trauma and that she was going to be perfectly fine. So it would also appear that the pain he'd inflicted was merely in her head—though of course, that didn't change the fact that she'd been in pain.

"So she's okay?" He pressed.

His mother hesitated. "She's...frightened." Bronte felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. "But, I don't think she's frightened of you. What happened scared her, of course, but she seems to understand that you manifested an ability and it was beyond your control. When the physician spoke with her, she was asking about you. She said you went very pale and began trembling before losing consciousness. She was afraid it had killed you."