It took them a fair walk, but Auros brought Veleria to a lake somewhere on the premises. Beyond it lie further architecture of similar make to what was behind them. They were, however, secluded enough for her to feel safe. That was, despite the family of ducks lazily swimming not far from the center of the lake. She walked along a paved path, noting rock formations she could use to climb down further towards the water. Auros followed along behind her, his arms held behind his back. When she found what seemed like the safest route down, her charge remained behind on the path while she skipped a few rocks downward. She could feel his eyes on the back of her head.
Once she was situated by the water, Veleria retrieved one of the knives she kept in her boots. It wasn’t a good one. She would probably carve herself like a bird with this one, but she didn’t want to melt a perfectly serviceable blade if she didn’t have to.
“This might get a little grisly,” she warned Auros. He nodded patiently, watching her now as she removed her glove, rolled up her sleeve, and presented her wrist to the water’s edge. She wanted to make sure she made a show of this, especially if Auros intended to bring up the subject with the Autumn Council. As such, she stuck the blade into her wrist then sliced vertically up towards her elbow.
She nearly keeled over from the pain. Steadying herself on the rocks despite herself, she watched the wound begin to bubble, steam, and ultimately close. The pain was gone nigh instantly, and as she looked back at Auros, she saw clouds of steam roll between them as her blood hit the water.
Auros was nearly rendered speechless. He had unhooked his arms from behind his back and now held one hand to his mouth. His brows furrowed.
“Veleria, how much do you know about magic?” He asked her, his voice muffled somewhat between his fingers.
“Nothing at all.” She replied honestly.
“This is sorcery beyond our realm. Even my kind, blessed though we are by the vagaries of this world, cannot mend wounds so quickly. Our spells take time and facilitate natural healing.” He was staring at her arm. “I have seen very little of greater spellcrafting, save for the likes of Lord Cromwell and the lady Alk’Hath. There have been others in the past, of course, but this…” He trailed off, his gaze distant as Veleria joined him. The knife in her hand was useless now. It no longer had any edge to speak of.
Veleria frowned, “I was hoping you could help me.”
He looked at her, at the once-knife, and then back to her again.
“Make no mistake, I will bring this to the council. There are some details of this that bring to mind a number of texts, though if I am honest…I wonder if I shouldn’t overstep.”
“What do you mean?” Veleria raised a brow.
“As a whole, my kind has been weakened significantly since the old days. We were far more knowledgeable back then, and the abilities that seem so distant now, that which Lord Cromwell and other sorcerers of his ilk are capable of, were instead rather commonplace.” Auros let his gaze drift out towards the lake. “Despite our current predicament, there are parts of it that are intentional. We have made great strides in the betterment of the realm, rather than falling to the dark, destructive, and imperialistic behaviors our forefathers knew. If this…change in you, is brought into the light, I wonder…”
Veleria sighed, “I just want to know what the hell is going on, what happened, why, you know? Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I didn’t die in that pit. This is all just so weird. Scary, really.”
Auros offered her a sympathetic look. Her lips thinned just acknowledging it. The dark-haired elf crossed his arms over his chest.
“You know little of magic, but what of history? Have you ever read any of the historic tomes that Lord Cromwell penned?” He asked her, raising a palm beside him.
“Well, when I was in Almor I tried to read a little of his ‘History of Raeon,’ though I found it difficult.” She shrugged. “I’m not exactly literate, and he uses so much old language.”
“Althalos Cromwell was alive during the events of that series. The council believes him an unreliable narrator given his slow descent to…madness, I suppose, but I have personally spoken with him at length.” Auros appeared to roll his eyes. He was rather discreet about it, a skill Veleria figured was necessary given his position. “I only ask because Caellach Fauror had a rather similar composition to yourself, and if what Giarmund said is true, then…”
Veleria nodded vehemently, “yes! I read about him. But he was…I mean, he killed a lot of people.”
“There is nuance to many things, Veleria. If you don’t mind, then I would like to confer with Lord Cromwell before discussing your situation among my peers.”
Veleria didn’t need to think this one over.
“Please do,” she said.