Reign of Discord

7

The strange old man had hustled over to another room in the seemingly endless house, and Jayce felt obliged to follow, but was overwhelmed with what he found in it.

It was a child's room, that he knew without a doubt. A small bed with patchy blankets sat in the corner, while the rest of the room detained the same chaotic feel as the rest of the house. There were paintings on every wall, paintings of nothing but faces. Each face was so different, but so realistic. Jayce had never seen anything like it. Small candles were scattered all around, and the ceiling, Jayce realized, was tented and made of nothing but glass. He could see the sky and the clouds, it was an amazing view from indoors.

"If you do decide to stay...this room is available. It once belonged to someone very close to my heart. But you could have all of his clothing, it fits you most likely. And his items, they can all be yours to use..." Retention rang in the old man's tone, as if he was hesitant about his own offer. But he seemed confident enough to show Jayce, and that was more than Jayce could ask for. Looking around, he wondered whose room it was, and what happened to the boy who used to reside there.

"Wh-"

"It's better left unsaid. He would have wanted his room put to good use once again, instead of just for an old man to...." His eyes became watery but he did not shed a tear. He blinked away the memories and stood more assertively now. Jayce didn't dare enter the bedroom.

"Please, child. You have hope here. You can grow here. But it is your decision." The old man seemed to recognize a decision like this one would take time. He stepped out and away from Jayce, going up a creaky flight of stairs without turning back to look at Jayce.

" I will be in my room if you need to speak to me, but otherwise...please do not disturb."

Jayce stood, taken aback by it all. He decided that perhaps one night wouldn't hurt...he would have that time to truly think it over.

After a moment, Jayce had the courage to enter the boy's bedroom. It was warm and cozy, the floor carpeted with different designs of rugs like the rest of the house. He walked up to a painting above the bed, mesmerized by it in particular. It was a painting of the old man, but a younger version of him. His eyes weren't as droopy and he was...smiling. A shine in his eyes and the color of the painting promised happiness...something not so convincing with the real old man. Each painting was signed with a calligraphy letter L, and Jayce found himself  entranced by its smooth beauty.

Moving on to a heavy oak (as most items in the house were) desk, he saw black and white pencil sketches on loose sheets of paper. There was a large leather notebook, and Jayce traced his fingers on the name indented into it: Akula.

Walking away from it all, Jayce decided this place was safe for him now. Akula seemed to be a good person. But perhaps his actions caused him grief...perhaps the "white folk" outside disapproved of him. That was all Jayce could consider at the moment, but that thought alone allowed Jayce the courage to stay in the room, sitting on the floor against the wall, looking towards the door until the sky turned dark.

But Jayce did not sleep. He could not. For the first time in a long time, he feared a man entering the room and making him cry. By beating. By...other means.

He feared it. And he did not know this old man, but Jayce could not imagine any man being so different from Damek. They couldn't be kinder. They couldn't be less violent, rageful.

So he did not sleep, even when the old man brought down a tray of delectable foods, and told Jayce he didn't have to sleep on the floor. It was all much more than had ever been offered to him. Yet he knew it did not- could not- come without a price. Jayce finally decided he would not pay the price. He left his home because he was done paying for his father's grief. He would not repeat his mistakes.

The old man's fearful words on how dangerous the outside world was...their effect was limited. Jayce realized now, he wasn't going to fall victim to some lame trick. He had been exposed to the "dangerous world" for so long already. How would anything change, for better or for worse?

So it was decided: Jayce was leaving. Quietly creaking opening the door, Jayce stepped out of the room, knowing he would miss the warmth, but he would not regret it.

Only one lantern was lit, its light trickling through the house, leading Jayce's eyes to the old man, who was sitting on a large couch, arms crossed, as the book in front of him turned its pages on its own. As Jayce stepped closer to the door, the book slammed shut, and he knew he had been caught.

"Jayce" The old man muttered, and Jayce froze.

"Come sit with me." He said, " Before you leave." The words didn't make Jayce feel any safer. But Jayce complied, forcing his weary body to sit next to the old man, hands trembling.

"I'm a patient man, Jayce. But I'm afraid I need to know you now. Before I can't help you any longer. " Jayce didn't know what he meant, but the shaking had stopped.

"How did you know my name?" He asked, and the old man laughed.

"If you can't tell, I'm no ordinary old man. I'm a Mage, Jayce, and some things are easy to come by. You wear your name proudly. I respect that." Respect? A word Jayce had never heard or understood before. This old man kept throwing new words at him to ponder endlessly.

But then there was the fact that Jayce was in a room with a mage: a powerful soul indeed. What he had heard of Mages in the past was little, but not enough of it was calming in any way. Regardless, many things were falling in place. Reason was sprouting again where mystery had overrun.

"So...you can read my mind?" Jayce asked shyly, acknowledging that this man could do terrible things to him at the lift of a finger.

"No, no...not now anyway." And suddenly a fire was lit in the stone fireplace that Jayce hadn't noticed before. Jayce appreciated the warmth, knowing it was so much better than being alone in the cold. But sometimes being alone was safer.

"But I can tell you're afraid of me. Even without reading your mind." The old Mage said, sniffling the whiskers hovering over his lips. Jayce stiffened, wondering if he was so bad at concealing his emotions.

"I don't know what could have happened to a boy so young...terrible, horrible things indeed, the way you look at me, the way you conquer your pain," Jayce stared at the fire, avoiding the burning look of the wise old man. Somehow, this man was able to pick up on so much, without even knowing him.

The silence overcame them, surrounded only by the cracking of the fire, a burning danger right here, concealed in this room so obediently. Finally, the old man huffed, and quarreled with himself over how to continue.

"Well, boy...can you read?" He huffed, leaning back comfortably and eyeing Jayce carefully.

"No..." Jayce replied, looking now at his small dirty hands.

"Not even English?" Jayce shook his head. Of course, because of Damek, he was only allowed to speak English. That didn't deter from the fact that where they were from, a different language dominated, and Jayce's absorbed their words indefinitely.

"Then that's somewhere to start. Other than that, we need to clean you up, starting with cutting off that awful mess on your head." The old man said, laughing contently. Jayce, unmoved, showed no expression. He was completely unreadable.

"I can't stay here." Jayce finally muttered, hoping his words wouldn't cause unnecessary feuds.

"Jayce, I understand this is new, and you're still afraid. But at some point, you need to move forward, for better things. You're only a child after all..." The old man's eyes softened and he reached over to pat Jayce's shoulder in a comforting gesture. But Jayce flinched violently and ended up standing on the other side, far from physical reach. The old man almost sadly retracted and sighed a dismal breath.

"How about this then? You don't have to stay nights here until you feel you can trust me. Until then, you learn from me what you can, including if I'm the kind of person who deserves your trust." Jayce composed himself again, seeing perhaps, promise in this agreement. But he could not stay here any longer. He needed the fresh air, he needed to roam and think it over some more. But Jayce slowly shook his head yes and backed out toward the front door, opening it and leaving with no words left to say.