INHERITANCE: Memorandum Of Scales

MAGEBANE

The heat had faded away.
There was no direction, no sight, no sound.

Roran felt nothing but his own awareness, floating in some bleached void. He felt his thoughts rather than hearing them in his head, a sort of phantom touch that perfectly encapsulated his ethereal sense of self.

He did not know how long he sat in the nothingness. His concept of time was nothing but a faded memory, something that he realized existed long ago, but had forgotten.

Roran could not say how long it was before the voice had spoken to him: It could have been seconds, years, centuries. He did not know. He just knew that the voice revealed itself to him, within Roran's mind.

"The secondson of the Seer."

"Who are you?" Roran said, gasping in shock as he realized he was using his mouth, his lungs filling with air.

I should be dead.
I was burned alive.

Roran remembered black flames curling and licking around his body. The blaze turned his skin to ash in a matter of seconds. He remembered then, the mage, Lorgainn and his men.

Katrina.

There was a woman in his field of vision as his eyes truly opened. He was treated to a silver room, flat and plain. In exchange for walls, starry skies were in place of them, the celestial bodies shining brightly as the woman walked closer to Roran.

She looked strange: Brilliant like the sun, with a slim figure and robes that hung beautifully off of her slight body.

"What is your name, Seerson?" The woman asked as she laid her slim finger on Roran's chest.

"Roran . . ." He answered, attempting to move away. His body did not listen to his commands, and the woman smiled beautifully at him.

"Roran. A powerful name, but not the one that was given to you at birth."

"What do you mean? Do you know my father? I . . . I was adopted. My adoptive father Garrow found me, but he knew nothing of my birth."

"Not personally, but I do know of him." The woman answered as she turned away from him. The stars flanked her on both sides, curving around her body as Roran stared, enraptured.

"Who was he?" Roran begged, tears welling in his eyes.

"I need to know. If this is truly death, I need to know his name."

"You will know, but the answer cannot be from me. Your death is not today, however." The woman turned, her lips curled in a grin.

"Your life, your bloodline still has use. The Triumvirate Kings will be the ones to heal the world. But not until after much blood has been shed. We've already run out of time."

Roran looked at the woman with a humored smirk. "I must be dead." He corrected.

The woman's eyes narrowed, and she raised her chin as she spoke.

"I can promise you that your death is coming boy, but it is not today."

Roran felt a chill run down his spine. He looked down at his hands as the woman's words washed over him.

"No . . . there's so much I don't understand."

"You will live until the appointed time."

The woman came closer to Roran again, placing her palm on his chest. His breast slowly began to burn. Roran cried, recoiling from the woman. He fell to the smooth floor, falling over and grabbing himself as he felt the flame work through his body.

"You will return to the world. But remember what I have said. The Triumvirate Kings are the only ones who will stop the tide of darkness."

Roran saw a flash of blue eyes within his mind. But before he could even think-

Roran found himself back in the circular room, clothed in his tattered armor and leathers. He was inside the fire, but the flames did him no harm. As he walked, they parted away, shying away from his body.

The dark mage was laughing hysterically as he pounded away at Lorgainn's blood shield. Black tendrils swarmed around him, and there were  only two mages, counting Lorgainn, that had survived.

Roran walked out of the firepit, leaning over to pick up a sword that had fallen just out of reach of the flames.

"You." Roran said, pointing the blade at the entity. The mage turned, impetuous, until its eyes widened in surprise. Confidence vanished underneath a snarl.
Black tendrils of blood came snaking at Roran . . . only to splash against the ground a few feet away from his body.

The mage growled and swung more tendrils, but like the first, they lost form and fell against the stone floor, splattering across the ground with a light hiss, similar to rain.

Roran charged. The mage cried and sent more blood spears, but they all failed to touch Roran. He plunged the sword into the mage's body, driving it deeper and deeper until the point erupted from an arching back.

The mage shuddered, until it let out one last gasp and died. Roran let go of the hilt, and the body fell to the floor, taking the sword with it.

"Roran . . ." Lorgainn rasped as his blood shield splattered to the ground. His animals hid behind him as he walked towards Roran.

"Your face . . ." He stammered, and Roran simply looked at the mage, not understanding.

Why didn't the tendrils hurt me?

Roran found a large block of glass on the ground, stained with blood. He smeared the watery blemish from the makeshift mirror fragment, and looked at his appearance.

Roran dropped the glass.
It shattered into pieces on the bloodied ground. Even though he no longer saw his own face, the image was burned into his mind.

Starting from his forehead, a large tattoo snaked down across his right cheek and further down his neck. It was black and sprawling, with jagged edges and harsh grace.

"What does it mean?" Roran asked.

Lorgainn shook his head.
"I don't know. Maybe if I could search your mind?" Lorgainne held out his hand.

Roran nodded, and the bloodmage placed his palm on Roran's forehead. Roran felt as Lorgainn  magic tentatively touched at Roran's memories.
suddenly Lorgainn shouted as he was thrown across the room by invisible hands. The surviving bloodmage instantly took up positions of defense, but stood bewildered as his control of blood resulted in little more than bubbling pools.

Lorgainn slid down the wall, and slowly rose, his bones cracking audibly.

"Magic . . . it has no effect on you. What happened to you, Roran? Who are you?"

The name came to Roran without him knowing. It entered his mind, and he had no control over himself then, unable to stop or alter the words that left his lips.

"I am Roran Magebane."