Prophecies and Lies

Chapter Thirty-Two

          “Once upon a time, I was a happy kid. I lived in a town called Threeboats, on the coast. It was a nice town, not too small, not too big—just good. Quiet mostly, though there always was stuff to do for a kid. Adventures to have, games to play, places to discover. The docks were my favorite spot; that's where the ships from oversea came in, where I could see the strangest people, and their even stranger cargo.

          “I never really had any complaints, growing up the way I did. My parents weren't as rich as yours, June, but they weren't poor either. We lived in one of the biggest houses in the center of town, had a servant or two, a few dogs and a horse. My father was an alchemist at the House of Wolves, an important one. He was a very driven man, always trying to expand his knowledge. He worked hard every day and came back late, to my mother and me. I remember how he stank of sulfur and other things. The whole house smelled of it. But I never complained; I loved my father and I loved the smell of alchemy as well.

          “But... one day, everything went wrong. Must have been a curse or something, because that kind of bloodmagic always works in threes. First, a frightened horse trampled over me. He could have killed me, had he hit my head, but I was lucky: it only broke my arm. Then, the project my father had been working on for months suddenly exploded. Took out part of the laboratory, and it was only due to the protection wards that he survived.

          “And third, my mother fell down the stairs. She... she fractured her spine and broke her neck. She didn't live...”

          Terrance kept silent for a second, letting the words get through to June as he gathered his thoughts. She didn't say anything either—she didn't know exactly what to tell him.

          Finally, he shrugged.

          “I-I wasn't at home when it happened. No one was. We found her in the evening, when she was already cold. It was hard on me. I was twelve, just a boy, not meant to deal with such things. I... I didn't handle it well for the first few weeks. I blamed everyone, the servants for not being there, my father too, and his colleagues, because I was so sure that they had done this out of spite, because my dad was more successful then them!

          “I lost all my friends, and I never found anyone. There was no one to find—it was just bad luck. And finally, I had to face the facts: my mom was dead and I couldn't do anything about it. I just had to deal with it, move on and make the best of it, you know?”

          June gave a slight nod. “I... I can understand. My mother died when I was two, I barely remember her. But there's still a-a...”

          “A hole she left in your heart? Me too. I felt alone, insecure, as if my whole world was obliterated in one quick sweep. I had never thought anything like that could have happened—not to my mom. Not to me.

          “But... I handled it. In time, I adapted, I learned to live without my mother. My father didn't. He never really was the same afterwards. He didn't want to acknowledge her death, barely even showed up at her funeral. Almost never spoke afterwards, not with me at least. I think that I reminded him too much of her; he used to say I looked like her, but after her death that wasn't a compliment anymore. It became something he muttered as he looked away and left the room.