002. "Dark magic."
Taking the last step up the stairs, we made it to the deck of the ship.
It was late into the evening. The wind was aggressive, blowing my hair and cloak around as torches struggled to stay lit on the deck.
“Storm ahead men! Man your stations!” A woman yelled.
She ran past us while several other of the crew nearby scrambled.
“Well, that doesn’t sound good.” Cyril said, motioning me down the deck.
I didn’t think much of the storm we were headed into, my head was throbbing and my stomach was screaming for anything at this point.
Going up another small flight of stairs, we made it up to the second level of the deck. Two doors were within view while Cyril stepped up to one of them.
I could feel raindrops pelting me as the sky lit up from the storm above.
“Just right here.” Cyril said, opening the door and allowing me in.
The room was dark as I stood there, lit by a single candle and a single window as the night was lit by the storm. Cyril entered after me and took the candle to light up an oil lamp filling the area with light.
A bunk bed was next to me, opposite was a table with two chairs. My eyes immediately glued to a loaf of bread previously partaken in by Cyril likely.
“The ships kitchen won’t be operating this hour, especially during a storm. So feel free to partake in what’s left on the table.”
Without acknowledging him, I sat down at the table and tore off a large chunk of bread by hand and immediately scarfed it down.
Cyril shrugged, walking over to a nearby cabinet and retrieving a bottle of wine.
Eating another fill, I stopped as he poured us two goblets of the red wine and passed me one.
He looked at me as I was hunched around the bread.
“...forgive me, I haven’t eaten in days.” I said, wiping my mouth of any crumbs.
He shrugged.
“As long as you are fed my dear.” Sitting down at the opposite end of the table, he raised his goblet. “To our new friendship, Vivian.”
“Oh, of course!” I scrambled, grabbing my goblet and raising it. Nearly spilling my wine before I could even have a single sip.
“To…” I stopped myself.
What was there to celebrate?
I was branded an exile by the Kingdom I grew up in since I was a child, I had no idea where I was going or what there was outside the elf territories.
“...Bread?” I said, uttering the first word that came to mind.
Cyril laughed.
“Yes, to bread.”
His goblet made a light impact against mine as I kept still. He took down his wine, tilting his head back emptying his goblet. Slamming it down on the table.
I stared for a moment, but… I couldn’t help doing the same. Chugging down the wine and slamming my goblet on the table.
“Forest elves, still remain the best crafters of wine I say.” Cyril said, pouring more wine for the both of us.
I nodded, looking out the window as I could feel the ship beginning to rock back and fourth more.
“Are you concerned about the storm at all?” I said.
“Can’t be concerned if you get drunk and pass out.” He slid my goblet back down to me.
I chuckled at his comment, tearing another piece of bread and having it alongside my wine.
“So… banished huh?” He said, looking at my wrist.
I stayed quiet, finishing my bread and another sip of wine.
“...yes.” I replied.
“I’ve seen the marks on other elves, but…” he looked closely at my wrist.
“...hm?”
“Forbidden magic, and murder?” He said.
“I thought you couldn’t speak elvish.”
“I can read it, I just never did well with conversations.” He took another sip of wine, looking out the window alongside me. “When you grow up on the island of The Empire, you learn quick to speak their language instead.”
“...It doesn’t seem respectful to others who wish to speak their own.”
Cyril chuckled.
“Oh, Vivian. You are going to learn quick that where we are headed, there is no such thing as respect.”
“…”
“You have a plan, right? Once you arrive?”
“No.”
“Hm... Do you know anyone? What to do?”
“I… don’t know anything about where we are headed Cyril. I grew up on the Sky Islands and…” I was beginning to tear up again, but kept myself from breaking down. “Goddess, I have nothing.”
“Sky Islands, were you an artist or…?” Cyril asked.
“I lived and worked in the castle.” I said, avoiding to mention my relation to my mother.
He whistled.
“Truly an honor then. Surely you have some skills from working in The Kingdom?” he asked.
“...to an extent.” I mumbled.
“Well…” Cyril took a sip of wine. “What did you do?”
I kept quiet for a moment, finishing my second round of wine.
“Can you promise to trust me?” I said.
“Of course.” He said, filling my goblet once again. “Please… tell me everything.”
I took a deep breath and exhaled.
“I was a researcher of dark magic for the Queen, she trusted me with certain material from the forbidden archives, and… I practiced dark magic assigned by her. Mastered it.”
Cyril’s eyes went wide, looking directly at me.
“Dark magic? That’s forbidden for all dark elves to practice. Just a little bit can corrupt us, correct?”
I began on my third goblet of wine, taking another sip.
“...not me.”
— Written by Froey —