"The darkest parts of people reside within their soul."
With the death of Arthur Pendragon came the fall of Camelot. It had been with the completion of the Eclipse armour that the Trollhunters fell to shambles. Esmerion must fight to keep Jim alive...
"You never know what kind of hell is waiting for you, so you might as well give up now."
Waking up gripped by terror and a hand over your mouth is not ideal. Esmerion's first instinct is to bite down as hard as he can on the unsuspecting victim's muffling appendage. Something cracks.
The hand flies from his mouth in less than an instant, accompanied by a cry of pain.
Instinctively, Esmerion scrambles away from the attacker, hitting his head on the cave wall. He groans, curling up with his head cradled between his palms. He does his best to ignore the warm fluid trickling through his fingers.
"Why'd you do that?!"
Esmerion whimpers quietly, scrunching his eyes shut as he tries to focus.
"Esmerion," he vaguely recognises the voice as Jim's, "You didn't need to go and bite me."
He cowers in his little ball, whining and whimpering pathetically. His nails start digging into his scalp as his hands tremble.
"Esmerion?"
The youth just curls up tighter, forcing his brain to focus. He doesn't want to remember, but he must. For the Goddess' name, he must.
"Hey, Ez?" Jim tries, his wounded hand held to his chest as he cautiously reaches out to his foster-brother, "Everything's going to be all right."
Esmerion shakes his head, biting his lip hard enough to make it bleed. His blood has a silver shimmer to it.
He's horrified by his nightmare. He hasn't had one like that for quite some time; centuries even. But they're never good. The last one he can remember was just before... He shakes his head vigorously. That's not going to happen. Not this time.
He focuses so hard that he can feel his magic begin to flare around him, crawling with steps like flame, and flickering with cold blue light. His eyes glow with freezing tone, making Jim back away in confusion and fear. Small cracks splinter like spider webs in the stone below him, dull trails of light following their rigid paths.
Esmerion can see it. He can sense it again. He fears it more than anything but it must happen. There is a light at the end of the tunnel. An end to this cruel darkness.
His magic returns to him so suddenly that Jim jumps backwards in alarm, startled by the sudden lack of light and sound. Esmerion stands, snatching a stone from beside him and throwing it at Jim's carefully drawn map, sending a burst of blue magic that erases it from existence.
"What are you doing?" Jim cries, leaping to his feet to stop the youth from causing anymore damage to his hard work, "I spent ages on that!"
"Sàmhchair, amadan," Esmerion hisses chillingly, and Jim immediately recognises that something's severely wrong. "Prepare yerself an' wait. There are others."
The boy stiffens, fear in his eyes, not only for the knowledge of being found out but for the sudden and gravely tone that his brother's voice has taken on. This isn't the person he has come to love and trust. This is someone new and unwelcome.
"A-nis!" He snarls, whipping around to glower at the young Trollhunter, the feral glint in his eyes urging Jim to jump into action.
Esmerion inhales slowly, eyes closed as he calms himself. There is no reason to get snippy with the boy. But they really must get moving.
"Oh, bhràthair, dè a dh'fheumas mi a dhèanamh?" He mutters softly to himself, clasping his hand over the golden crest of his chain mail. "No matter, I must be swift."
If Jim is surprised by this, he does not show it. He has grown reluctantly used to the youth's private whispers of nonsense. It is something he has done only in this cursed place. If only his foster-brother had stayed put and not chosen to meddle in affairs that do not belong to him.
Esmerion's attention draws away from the child, his fingers twitching slightly as another stone lifts into his palm. His eyes narrow on the now blank section of rock wall and he raises his arm, lining up where he wishes to begin.
Jim cringes, gritting his teeth as the awful sound grates on his ears, sharp and rigid like nails on a chalkboard. He glances over his shoulder at the youth, finding him scraping a figure into the stone.
His eyes grow misty, his gaze distant as his hand draws the oh, so familiar person from his ancient memory. This will be his mark. His signature. His 'come and find me'.
Their ragged old coat, the mop of raven black hair, the red neckerchief. But they are not his purpose. No. It is the warlock's surroundings; the unrivaled cavern that he looks out upon, even with the torch in his hand he could never see the walls of it.
It is the grand figure in front of him. The all-knowing and amused smirk that always detailed their face. The serpentine intelligence in their eyes.
"Hello, Kilgharrah."
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Sorry for the delay in chapters. I got distracted by another fic... and another. I actually posted one of them. If you're interested in Percy Jackson, go have a look at it. It's called "The Queens of Greece" and I'm quite proud of it. It's done in collaboration with Silver-Ashley.
