The moon kissed son, Aaron's tale part 3/3

The departure the day after was easier than Aaron thought. With Baireï's help they rapidly built a sturdy litter and despites Katy's protests at being dragged in such an undignified way, despites her pleas for a couple of crutches and her loud swearing, they set her in and started before noon. Akara walked at her side, Baireï holding the poles to drag it while Aaron closed the way. He had seen the package, carefully sewed in thick dark fabric, that Baireï had dug out from the barn but hadn't commented any further. He had had his fill on revelations lately and would wait for this one.

The travel to the camp took them two days, two days during which he discovered more about his mother's past than he had in fifteen years. He learned about her teen years antics, he giggled at the tales of her shenanigans that Akara told with her soft melodious voice, making those even more fun. He laughed at the stories of her mother in the army, at the many pranks she had pulled toward Baireï and the stories of his revenge. On the litter Katy was commenting too, joking and trading playful banter with her friends when the pain was low, and when it was too strong, Akara would come and give her some more of her potions, sending her into a light doze.

His mother had insisted into entering the camp in crutches and not in a litter. She had been so set this time that Akara and Baireï had relented, understanding her need to appear not as a useless cripple but as the wounded soldier she still felt she was. Leaning heavily into her son, she walked through the camp. They got installed into Baireï's own quarters, into the first floor of the house he had taken Aaron the first day. They had a bedroom each, with a feather bed and a small brazier to keep the room agreeably warm. The food was plain but plentiful and Baireï gave him clothes to better mingle with the rest of the in training young soldiers. There was nothing to be done for his appearance, this pale skin and dark mark spreading like some tattooed lace on his cheek and it made many a seasoned soldier give a small start at seeing him trotting next to Baireï toward the training grounds. There the tall man proceeded to demonstrate vigorously the many flaws in Aaron's techniques during two hours than seemed to the young man the longest of his life.

"Back on your feet, my boy. You did good."

Aaron grabbed the offered hand and pulled on his feet to rise again. He had been lying prone on the ground, panting and trying to catch a real breath over the pain of his pummelled ribs.

"Did I? It didn't felt like it, though."

"You did. I can see your mother's training on you but her flaws too. She always was too brash, too eager and this, boy, you will have to work on. We should gear you up too, to get you used to the feel, but that can wait until you are sure you want to enter the army."

"I am sure."

"No, you aren't. Right now the only thing you want it to play the hero, go find your father and defeat him, prove I don't know what in the faces of the men and the gods. That's not how it works, you know? Being a soldier isn't about a man, isn't about revenge. It's about a whole, it's about protecting your people and friends and family."

Those words spoken in his usual gruff voice did nevertheless hurt Aaron more than the blows he had received just earlier and he felt a sudden flash of anger flaring at that tall man in front of him.

"Well, someone has to do it given how you weren't able to protect my mother and her people..."

"I will let that one pass, my boy. I will let that one pass and you can thank your mother for it."

Baireï's only eye had taken on a dangerous steely glint as he spoke from between clenched jaws. Little did Aaron know that he had been the one to find his mother, gathering in his arms the bruised and battered body, saw her eyes roll madly in her face as fever and delirium made her claw at the air in doomed efforts to escape the demon that had attacked her. Little did the boy know about the fact that he, Baireï, had been the one to suggest Katy's name for that mission, sending her straight in the jaws of hell.

For a flicker of an instant, Aaron was sure that despite what he had said, Baireï would hit him but the man only stared down at him and turned on his heels, leaving him alone on the training grounds. This burst of anger had been so unusual for Aaron that he stood there several long minutes, wondering where such venom may had come from. When he had said that, it had been as if he had known what to say to hurt the old warrior, as if for a  brief, so brief flicker of time he had seen within his soul the ghosts that were haunting him. There was wetness on his left cheek and when he lifted his fingers to it, felt the warmth of tears seeping from his eye, following the lines of his birthmark.

"Wait! Bairei! Master Baireï!"

He bolted after the man, managing to catch him only at the door of his house and opening it for him, stepping back respectfully as he held it. The man entered and he followed, closing the door behind him.

"I apologise for what I said. It was wrong, and stupid."

"What did you do, Aaron?"

His mother, hobbling toward them with a frown on her face. She insisted on moving by herself with only the help of a crutch, and was spending her days between Akara's infirmary and Baireï house, puttering around while grumbling in frustration at not being able to do more.

"Nothing else that you didn't do when you were his age, Katy. I reckon that you trained him well but did he really had to have your character?"

To that she snorted and the grizzled warrior grinned, a whole speech in his eye as he looked at Aaron. No more need for words about the incident for the two of them and the young man smiled warmly at his elder, understanding why his mother had trusted him so much.

"Did you have my gear cleaned up, Baireï?"

"I did, and it wasn't small feat. Bury it. You buried it. Woman, really what were you thinking?"

To that she only made a face and again Aaron saw it, the brief glimpse of a younger woman dancing on her face.

"Come here, Aaron, I want to show you."

The uniform was old but had been well protected by the layers of oiled cloth it had been wrapped in. Above a tunic in passed out green, a reinforced leather vest, adorned with greenish bronze studs, and a peculiar weapon that made him look at his mother curiously.

"I was a peasant, Aaron. I used to cut the fruits from the trees with a long stick on which I had tied a knife. I was real good with this, so Baireï had that weapon made for me. See? Sturdy oak wood in the middle, and a blade at each end. It gave me a wider reach and I was quite proficient with that."

They soon settled in a well oiled routine. Aaron would go in the small hours of the day to train with Baireï until the sun was at its highest, then mingle with the rest of the trainees to receive instructions on tactics and strategy. The camp wasn't a simple recruits training site but was forming officers, men destined to lead others in battle. His mother had taught him what she could but there he was discovering a whole new world, a river of knowledge he drank from avidly. He wanted to have his revenge, and he would do everything for it.

"Traitor's seed is spying on us again."

He had learned to ignore those words. It was hard, harder than anything he had ever did, but he had steeled his feelings, gritting his teeth to turn a deaf ears on such insults. There weren't a lot that did call him like this, but some did, old soldiers that had fought Vondel and seen him tear through their ranks, his army of monsters and conjured shadows crushing their comrades. Seeing Aaron in their ranks with his skin so like his father's and this mark on his cheek, was seemingly an insult for some of them and they tried to goad him in reaction, to push him to fight, just to have a reason to spill his blood on the earth.
He bypassed the small group, trying to ignore the catcalls and jeers, and went to Baireï.

"You want to talk about it?"

"No, sir. I'm good."

"I will tell you something you better not repeat, but you're smarter than your mother was at your age. Now don't repeat it, really. She still has a mean right hand."

"And she doesn't shy of using her crutch as a fighting stick."

They both smiled as they started to walk, Aaron having to step faster to accommodate the taller man strides. He could see now that he started to know the man why his mother had been so close to him. Loud and raucous when not on duty, the man was serious and focused when teaching the recruits, harsh and mocking but fair and never reluctant to give out a deserved compliment. Briefly he wondered how it would have been to grow up with such a man as a father, the life they would have had in the cottage hidden in the woods and the image that popped on his mind made him snort.

"What makes you laugh so much, boy?"

"Mother and you."

"We would have been at each's other throat in a blink." Baireï laughed too at the picture, one hard hand slapping Aaron's back hard enough to make him stumble. "But I would have supported a son like you, boy. I would have."

"I think I could have stood a father like you, sir."

"Disrespectful brat. Come with me, let's have a drink before calling this a day."

The drink became two, then three, then four, and it's wavering on his feet than Aaron stumbled out of the tavern, stomach churning and head pounding in the middle of the night. Behind him he could still hear the laughters of the place, the thunderous voice of Baireï gone once more into one of his tales of seduction and war. Aaron hiccupped, the acrid taste of bile mixing with the nutty flavour of the ale. He had drank way too much. Another spasm shook him and he vomited, one hand reaching blindly for a wall to support him, the other clenching his belly. The nausea persisted until his stomach was empty and he was wiping his mouth with a still trembling hand when he felt the move behind him.

Instinct and training made him dodge, falling on his side on the dry grass, rolling to deflect the hit that barely brushed his shoulder rather than hitting him full force on the back of the head as it had been intended. The man was alone, his breathing a gargling hiss through his wreckage of a nose. Seeing that Aaron was now facing him he grinned, revealing rotting, yellowed teeth and pulled out a knife, the blade stained and pitted but still glinting along the edge, sharp and jagged.

"You first, then your traitorous whore of a mother, my boy, it's a promise."

The man attacked, his blade swishing in front of him. The moon was a small crescent of silver in the sky but largely enough for Aaron to see him as clearly as it had been full day light. He ducked and dodged, intent on avoiding the blade. He didn't waste his breath in trying to reason the man or call out for help, too focused on staying alive. The smallest error would be his death warrant in front of this opponent, determined as he was. Adrenaline and fury had washed away the dizziness of the drink, and he snarled at the man. He would kill him, destroy him, make him pay for his threats towards his mother! He cannoned in the man, ducking under the blade, sending the two of them tumbling on the dirt. He had landed astride his opponent and his reek, old sweat and alcohol mingled with the first notes of fear wafted to Aaron's nostrils. He slammed the man's wrist on the ground, once, twice, until the fingers let escape the blade, indifferent to the way the other hand was seeking for his face, fingers digging under his jaw, aiming at his left eye. Pain flared on the side of his face, a lace of fire suddenly blazing along the mark that covered his temple.

Under him the man gave a great spasm and gasped. Thick tendrils of darkness were coiling up around his neck, snaking inside his nose, his mouth, rendering him mute, his eyes widening in terror and pain. Another of those wild buckling motions made Aaron lose his grip and roll on the side, looking at the man that gave one more great jerk and fell back limp on the ground. No need to check to know this was nothing more than a corpse next to him. Aaron scrambled on his feet, and ran back to Baireï's house.

No one came for him the first day, nor the second, and by the third, the man's death was already starting to be forgotten. What was the death of one more drunkard anyway, one that had little friends and huge debts? Aaron was having nightmares, feeling those thick tendrils of darkness crawl on him at night, suffocating him. He would wake with a start, drenched in sweat, sure he could feel the mark on his cheek move and twist. His change of behaviour didn't go unnoticed but neither his mother's questions, nor Akara's gentle suggestions that whatever may be worrying him could be surely be solved if he would speak about it, or even Baireï's loud wondering about the eventuality of a woman that had spurned him did manage to break his shell of silence.

His mother had discarded her crutch and had started training again. Seeing her and Baireï fight against each others was an education and regularly he could hear soldiers take bets on who would manage to defeat the other, along with some admiring or more lecherous comments that made him jump at first but which also made him realise that his mother was still an attractive woman. She still had a slight limp and her face would never have the gentle perfection of Akara's features but she had a great smile she flashed regularly and lovely green eyes that still sparkled in the sun, along with a body many younger women could be jealous off. When one night he heard the door of her room open and close and the low rumble of Baireï' s voice echoes in the hall followed by a purring laugh that ended in a soft gasp, he felt oddly grateful, as if this small bit of newly found happiness that the man was offering his mother could somehow compensate her years of voluntary exile to protect him.



"They saw him! They saw him!"

The young messenger was babbling excitedly in a circle of avid listeners and Aaron caught the name, stopping dead in his tracks.

"Vondel, the white demon! He has been spotted barely a week's travel from here, with a  troop of two thousand men! They say they are aiming to take Hersan Bridge! They say that the Nirri fort garrison fell in one night, all the men killed by ghosts and evil spirits!"

Hersan Bridge and its garrison. One of the many citadels of the men along that line between the already lost lands and the rich countries of the east. Nirri had been a small outpost but well built, able to hold a half decade siege once or so the stories went. It was hard to believe that Nirri was lost and that in turn, Hersan may fell. His decision was taken even before he realised it and Aaron had left the camp in the hour, taking the minimum. He stole the best mount he could find, leaving a handful of silver coins in the through and hammering the horse's flanks, left for Hersan Bridge. On his mother's bed, a letter, two simple sentences.

"I have to do it. I love you. Aaron."


His mount was good and well trained, eating the distance in an easy lope and supported without balking the shapeshifter on its back. Many of the horses were spooked by the scent of predator they could smell on the children of the claw but this one had been well trained and Aaron and him rapidly became friends. They travelled five days long, until they reached the fork of the Jonquil, the great river that was leading to Hersan bridge. There was a middle sized town, whose inhabitants were hiding their fear of the upcoming army under bravado, claiming to whoever may listen that never before Hersan had fell, and that the white demon, as they nicknamed Vondel, would be rapidly defeated and sent back to the darkness that was his proper place. Face hidden under his cowl, Aaron left the horse in the cleanest stable he could find and left the road, disappearing into the woods.


The forest was silent, as if nature herself was expectant, awaiting the intruders that would soil her by their mere presence. Aaron slipped and weaved his way between the trees and brushes, ears pricked, constantly alert. He slept high in the trees, not making any fire, careful of not leaving any trail, until he finally saw it in the distance, the army of the monster.

It was easy even from here to spot Vondel's tent. Higher than the other, a pristine whiteness from where Aaron stood, and heavily guarded by huge creatures, their skin the black of the night carved into being. Except for a small cluster of more modest tents behind Vondel's one, the camp was a disorganised mess of randomly set fire camps and shelters and the sound of frequents brawls echoed under the sky, howls of anger sometimes cut short in agony.

Among those monsters, he saw one of the dark creatures dragging a small silhouette, one that had long hair and a plain dress, pushing her roughly forward and barking something inaudible from that distance but which elicited howls of laughter around them as the woman stumbled on her feet and bolted off the camp running as fast as she could.

He was still trying to process what it could mean when he saw a misshapen shape bring a beautiful pale horse, his hair the colour of milk but his mane and tail of a dark, intense red. From that distance he couldn't discern the features of the rider but the pallor of his skin was enough for him to realise he was seeing his father for the first time of his life. The horse stirred under his rider and bolted forward through the camp under the cheers. Farther away, Aaron dropped silently from his branch and started to run.

His father had gone alone hunting his prey, a sick game that left Aaron's mouth filled with a bitter taste. For him, born and raised in the way of the claw, of the people that lived one foot in each world, the one of humans and the one of the beasts, hunting was a meaningful act where one died so the other could live, sustained by the sacrifice of flesh. This mocking where a man atop a horse hunted down an unarmed and terrified peasant girl for the sheer pleasure of inflicting terror and pain was an affront to everything Aaron had lived by so far.

He cut straight through the forest, not even trying to be discreet: if his father heard the crashing in the underbrush and thought it was the girl, it would be all the better. When he heard her ahead in the forest, her panting and desperate sobs perfectly audible for him, he angled sharply towards the sounds and found her half hidden between a secular old oak's roots. She gave a pitiful scream of panic at seeing him appear in front of her. He knew perfectly what she saw: a silhouette wrapped in darkness, a face hidden by a cowl, as frightening surely as the monsters in the camp had been but he couldn't take the risk on showing his face to her and have her freak out even more when she would see his face so alike his father.

For a brief instant, her stench of fear and prey was enough to make him dizzy with a dark hunger and he wondered how her blood would taste, pumped by this young strong heart through her veins. As fast as it had appeared this urge was gone, leaving only disgust and self loathing in its wake. More roughly than intended he pulled the girl upright. She looked to be approximately his age, with long chestnut hair that reached her shoulder blades and a small heart shaped face with an upturned nose. She may have been pretty, even, in other circumstances but here her panic and terror were turning her into something barely above an animal, tears and snot dripping along her cheeks.

"On your feet and run, silly girl! He will be here soon!"

He shook her but she didn't react, tetanized by fear, still crying silently.

"Run, run toward the east! Run before he catches up with you!"


"And what if he has already, my boy?"


Velvety low, perfectly controlled, the voice echoed from behind Aaron whose eyes widened in shock. He hadn't heard the man, hadn't smelled him, nothing had betrayed his approach.

"Isn't it cute. The brave lad coming to save his beloved fiancée, or maybe just a young wannabe hero hoping for fame and glory?"

Vondel dismounted as silently as he had come, the only sound the whisper of the grass on his leather boots as he stepped forward and away from his horse. Seeing Aaron turn and drag the girl behind him he grinned.

"How heroic of you...And now I guess you will defy me for the pretty eyes of your girlfriend?"

"No." Aaron shoved the girl backward, hissing again at her to go and this time, miraculously she obeyed, bolting away and he hoped, in the right direction. "I'm just here to kill you."

"That's a tall order." There was something with that young man, something Vondel couldn't yet pinpoint but as curious as he was, he also was utterly confident in his capacity to eradicate his small opponent. "Can I at least know the name of my future assassin?"

"I'm Aaron. Son of Katy." The young man pulled on his cowl, revealing his face. He had been expecting the surprise, the sharp intake of breath and used it, jumping forward with an angry scream. Unfortunately for him, Vondel hadn't survived hundreds of battles by not reacting quickly and the young man's attack was deflected in a blink as a mastiff of darkness appeared between them, sending him on the ground.

Aaron rolled back on his feet immediately, facing again his father who was looking at this younger, bastardised version of himself with a thoughtful look that slowly shifted to crafty. The invocation of darkness was still circling between them, protecting Vondel from another frontal attack and he used that time to better scrutinize his son, raking through his memory. They hadn't been that many, the women that had caught his attention enough to bed them. Even the peasant girl would have been nothing but a distraction, a prey to hunt and discard, not worthy of him. There was something on the young man's features, in those huge eyes that caught the light of the moon, flashing briefly as he moved to keep the invocated creature at bay.

"The soldier girl, the girl of the cat people. I remember her. So she survived and had you in addition? Interesting. There must be some truth in the old wife's tale of your kind having nine lives. We shall try it."

A thought was enough to send his beast on Aaron. He had no intention yet of killing the boy, not that he cared in the least for their parentage but because he may prove himself useful: he had no memory or knowledge of having ever sired from such random encounters and the presence of the same mark as he had on the young man's brow interested him enormously. Vondel had paid a dear price for this tattoo and the power that went with it and it shouldn't have passed down on someone else, even someone sharing his blood.

The boy was dodging easily the attacks, jumping right and left, slashing at the creature to made it back off but since Vondel's monsters were immune to pain, fear, or tiredness unlike him, it was just a matter of time. Vondel hadn't kept that much memories of his encounter with Katy, mostly a few fleeting remembrances of the way she had panted under him, of the scent of her skin, this raw earthy aroma of female, and mostly of her eyes widened in fear and pain as he had held her under his blade. She had not only survived but his seed had quickened in her and she had kept and raised the child. In front of him, boy and creature were still dancing their ballet of death.

The shadow was relentless, pushing him, indifferent of the wounds he had inflicted to it, deep gouges that seeped a blackish ichor on the forest ground. Aaron lunged farther than would have been reasonable, catching the creature at the default of the shoulder and pulled with all his might, cutting the throat to the bone. The beast collapsed on the ground, melting, disappearing, fading under his eyes and he lifted his head just in time to see Vondel flicking his fingers towards him with an almost bored expression on his beautiful cold face. Pain flared on his chest and he flew back, bouncing on the elastic grass once before rolling to a stop, his mouth filled with the coppery taste of blood. Dizzied by the impact he tried to push back on his feet but his moves were uncoordinated, his limbs feeling too heavy. In a sight blurred by shock he saw the silhouette of Vondel coming nearer, this small self satisfied smirk still playing on his lips.

"I've never had a pet before.... This may be interesting."

The yowl that tore through the forest kept on and on, a holler or fury and defiance, a ringing challenge that made everything stand still for a second.

"Step away from my son."

She had landed near Aaron, clad in her old stained tunic, the metal of her vest gleaming softly in the moon light. She was slightly crouched, blade in hand, face set in a mineral mask of fury. She was a mother, she was the mother, the one that stood for her infants, from the hare facing the fox to the lioness fighting for her cubs. Her voice was a long growl of hatred as she took in the man in front of her, the man that hadn't changed in all those years, unlike her.

"Aaron, get away."

"This is turning in a real little family reunion, shall I wipe away my tears of joy?"

Vondel did step back nevertheless, remembering very well how fast and precise she had been but he couldn't restrain a wide grin as he saw her walk asides and haul her son on his feet, that limp she couldn't hide.

"I defeated you once already and still you came back again, alone and crippled? You beasts really never learn but I guess I can spare enough time for another lesson."

"She isn't alone this time."

If Aaron had found Baireï impressive during training it was nothing compared to now. The old warrior was clad in a dark grey armour adorned with silver and enamel and was holding a wide bladed long sword almost as tall as Aaron. Standing almost six feet tall and four feet wide of shoulders, he looked more like a bear that a man in front of his slender, smaller opponent.

"Aaron, you heard your mother. Get away from here. We will take care of him."

"A child, a cripple, and an one eyed old man. This isn't amusing anymore."

With this simple sentence Vondel released his powers, sending a pack of shadow hounds in their direction. The first one got properly cleaved in two by Baireï, while Katy twirled and gutted another one, and all hell broke lose in the clearing as more and more of the infernal creatures were launching themselves at the two soldiers protecting Aaron. He was standing transfixed, looking at his mother and her friend fight for their life, for his life, as ferociously and mercilessly as they could, surrounded slowly despites their efforts. Blood had started to trickle from his mother's left arm, bitten by one of the creature and as he watched, one of those managed to bite through Baireï armour just above the calf, making the strong soldier stumble.

He never meant for this to happen, never meant for this to end up like that and again the pain started to flare on his face, burning hot, a lace of incandescent agony that coursed on his skin and flesh, sending jolts of bright torture in his brain, blinding him. Aaron's screams tore into the forest louder even than his mother's call, as he fell back on his knees, clenching his head. In his veins, in his heart, there was nothing else than the pain and the anger, a fury that boiled as black as the creatures, as black as his father's soul.

Something jumped forward, joining the fray. Lithe and silent, sometimes transparent, sometimes glowing, as if she was made of weaved darkness and moon light, the panther attacked. Each swipe of a ghostly paw tore through the creatures as easily as if they had been made of smoke, reducing those to fetid wisps in the night air. The panther of twilight padded forward, her eyes glowing with a greenish yellow light and Vondel felt for the first time since the beginning of this confrontation a tremor of fear down his spine. The child shouldn't have been able to call on such a magic. It was impossible, not like this, not this way, no one should except him, him who had made the greatest sacrifice of all to gain his powers.

As he stared at her, the panther dissolved into nothingness and he could see on the faces of Baireï and Katy the same incredulous look he surely had. With a curse he made a swiping move, sending a veil of utter obscurity toward them to cover his tracks and leaped atop his mount, ramming cruelly the heels of his boots on the horse's flanks. He would send his whole army if need be, but he would wipe this bastard from the face of earth.

The pain was receding gradually in Aaron's head and with Baireï's help, he managed to stand on his feet. He was still dizzy but at the same time everything was crystal clear, every edge, every contours sharp and glittering like a diamond. He saw things, shapes, dancing around his mother and Baireï, silhouettes and shadows, heard sounds barely audible whispers and distant, a peal of laughter that faded as chimes in the wind before darkness swallowed him and her fell in a dead faint in the old soldier's arms.

Neither the old soldier nor his mother questioned out loud what had happened as they ran through the forest to the shelter of the city. They knew it was just a matter of time before Vondel would come back to exact revenge on them. Only when they reached the safety of town did they slow, Katy all but collapsing on a stone bench near the very same stable Aaron had left his horse. A fast inventory of their wounds found those non life threatening if painful and Aaron felt his mother's hand on his brow, bringing him back to consciousness, caressing him but avoiding the mark on his temples. For all the love that was still shining high and bright in her eyes, he could see now the weight of hundreds of unspoken questions, the fear, not of him, but for him and it was enough for him to take his decision.

"Mother, I have to go. There is a darkness in my heart that I don't understand and I feel it will destroy me if I don't learn to control it."

"I will go with you, then."

She spoke even if she already knew what he would say, knew what the ending of this was, for a mother's heart knew those things but she had to say it nevertheless. Baireï had already gone into the stable, leaving them this short moment to bid their goodbyes.

"No, mother. This is something I must do alone. "

Aaron could see the tears in his mother's eyes along with a mixture of pride and anxiety and he too, could feel the burn in his throat as he swallowed back his emotions. He had to be strong, for her even if he felt as afraid as the little he had been once, calling out in fear of nightmares and shadows, he knew deep down there was no other choice. He had almost been swallowed by oblivion there in the forest, had felt the rise of hate, the thirst for destruction and pain. Only the will to protect those he loved had been enough to vanquish those impulses and it had been close, too close.

"I love you, mom. You were the best mother ever."

"You will always be my moon kissed son, Aaron. Come back to me, please."

"I will, mother, I will."

This time she hugged him and he didn't resist, holding her as fiercely as she was. In the hold of those arms he had always associated with care and safety he almost felt his will relent but he braced himself. It was his turn now, to do what needed to be done to protect and those he loved. The noise of iron shod hooves on the stone paved ground made him break the embrace, pressing one last time the worn out, callused hands of his mother to his lips as he turned to the man next to them. The old warrior looked tired under the moon light but still strong, a tree that had withstood many storms and would hold in front of as much others.

"She is right, you know. You shouldn't go alone, Aaron."

"I have too. Besides you have something to do here too. You have to protect those lands from my father."

He came nearer to the tall man, a small smile playing on his lips for he understood now what he had seen earlier and added in a low voice, a barely audible whisper that had nevertheless Baireï's pupils dilate in sock.

"I know you will be a great father for my brothers and sisters to be. Take care of my mother."

"As strong as I can, as long as I live."

"I know that. Thank you, Baireï."

He jumped on the saddle, feeling another wave of dizziness wash over him and the wetness of tears he couldn't stop seeping from his left eye, anointing the mark of darkness that was his father's evil heritage. The mark felt cold under his fingers, something out of this world that he nevertheless intended to understand and control, a desire to protect those he cared for that was his mother's legacy.

Without a backward glance, Aaron, son of Vondel and Katy, went on his path.