As Edgar wandered between the hollowed out buildings, an uneasy feeling enveloped him.  Loneliness began to tug at his heart, and he thought of his mother.  She spoke of a place whose name was lost, and people stolen.  A place whose heart pumped the blood of the wicked, the Derelicts.

“My eyes must deceive me,”  A strange and shaky voice stated from behind Edgar, “There is a boy in the village.  Do you speak the old tongues boy?”

Edgar spun around and shuddered at the sight of an old Elvish man, legless and hobbling around on his hands.

“Wha–?”  Edgar caught himself.  “Who are you?”

“Daugion is my name, my apologies for sneaking up and not offering an introduction.  My time here has been long and lonely, my skills with travelers wore off long ago.”  The elf stated, looking Edgar up an down, as if sizing him up.

“My name is Edgar, and no, I am not familiar with the old tongues.”

“Why not?  You have the ears of an elf, but the features of a man, what then shall I say of you?  The old tongues are important among my Elvish kin, but Men have tried long to destroy the old ways.  So what can I say of you?”

The old Elvish man seemed to be losing his temper with Edgar over something Edgar could not understand.  Edgar knew of the wars, but could not remember the cause and effect.  His mother told him of the wars, and that his birth was taboo, but could also potentially bring peace.

“You can say of me that I am of both worlds, a harbinger of peace, perhaps.”

“Peace?!  HA!  Do you know how long the wars have lasted?  You were an accident, a product of Man’s pillage in an Elvish village.  Perhaps you have run away from home?  Living with Perrin in the wood, seeking refuge so as not to be murdered?”

“I killed my parents!!!”  Edgar exclaimes, infuriated by Daugion’s presumption.

“Killed them?  You know the truth and nature of your existence then.  And what of Perrin?  Do you know him?”

“I know the nature of my existence, yes.  I am here to wander this world to discover that which my mother and father could not teach me.  I was not an accident, my elf mother loved my human father and sought refuge on the edge of the Owlmere forest.  They were trying to escape the evil’s beyond them brought on by the spell Midrak cast upon the land before his death.”

“A history less–”  Daugion started, but Edgar interrupted, speaking faster.

“As for Perrin, he saw something inside of me growing stronger.  His fear made him cautious, something he locked me in a room for.  He did not know whether there was love or hate within my heart.  His son, Falcon, seeks my blood and may not rest until he knows my heart no longer beats.”

Edgar drew a deep breath upon awakening. His dreams the night before were different, more comforting. Still, he knew that something inside of him was growing stronger, fiercer and more likely to overcome him. This, however, brought him no discontent.

“Edgar?” Perrin inquired from the other side of the door. “Are you awake?”

“Yes, I am.” Edgar answered.

“Do you mind if I come in? I’d like to speak with you.”

“That would be fine.”

Perrin forced the door open as though someone had been braced against it. He made his way in with more effort than should have been necessary. Edgar found this strange, but said nothing as he did not want to offend the old man.

“You slept better last night than you usually do, no?” Perrin asked.

“Yes, much better, actually.” Edgar answered, smiling.

“Edgar, there is something we need to discuss. I think your life may be in danger.”

“What do you mean?”

“Falcon has made a disturbing decision. He seeks to kill you because of the power that grows inside you.”

“You mean the curse Midrak put on the land, don’t you? That’s what grows inside me, isn’t it?”

“I cannot say for sure, Edgar. I believe what grows inside you is magic, but not the magic of Midrak. I believe this because you do not show hatred, but rather the will to live.”

“What do you mean?”

“Edgar, the reason you destroyed your home was due to fear. The reason you acted out against me was due to fear as well. That which you do not understand forces you to act defensively. Unfortunately, what lives inside of you is misunderstood as well. This is the reason we must teach you to contain it, while keeping you a safe distance from my son.”

“Why do you speak as though you, too, are afraid of Falcon?”

“I am afraid of Falcon now, Edgar. I have sensed that he has changed. Last night he made a decision to hate, to destroy what he feels he must.”

“And what is it that he feels he must destroy?”

“I do not know, Edgar, but I feel it must be the same things you do - the misunderstood. The things that cause fear.”

Edgar crawled off the bed and walked toward Perrin.

“Perrin, tell me what to do.” Edgar instructed.

“Run, Edgar, and I will find you again when the time is right.” Perrin said, rigidly.

Perrin seemed to be contradicting his own words, as though he himself did not know what to do. Edgar questioned this, but did not seem to care. He found himself trusting Perrin more than he thought would have been possible. Something he saw in Perrin’s eyes gave him hope.

“Perrin,” Edgar started, “I do not know where to go.”

“Hello.” A voice from the shadows greeted.

“Who’s there? Show yourself!” Falcon demanded.

An old man, barely able to walk, came toward him. As he approached, Falcon noticed his flesh was pure white, almost blinding under the moonlight. His eyes glowed a faded but distinct shade of blue.

“Hello, Falcon.” The man said.

“How do you know my name?” Falcon asked.

“Oh, I know plenty.” The man replied.

“What do you want?”

“To tell you a story. Will you hear me?”

“A story? So long as your story is not long, I have a hard road ahead.”

“Don’t we all?” The old man sat down on rotting tree trunk and let out a dry heaving cough.

“Are you ok?” Falcon asked, concerned.

“People used to pass near here on the road to the south, looking for a small tavern by the name of The Screeching Dragon. Do you know it?” The man said.

“There are no taverns on that road near here. The nearest tavern is at least two days travel, but to the north.”

“So you have never heard the story of The Screeching Dragon. Probably better to have no knowledge of such a poisoned past.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the birthplace of the wizard Midrak. Or at least the place of his conception.”

“What?”

“Midrak had many fathers, all men who claimed to be sorcerers and magicians. All drunkards and lunatics if you ask me.” The man let out another cough, a bit of blood shined on his lip.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I was the keep at that tavern, the one who let those men tear that poor womans flesh to dine on her soul. I was cursed for it and have kept quiet until now. I saw it in your eyes and heard in your words how much you needed to hear true words from cursed lips so that you could have the same courage those men did.”

Falcon drew his blade on the man.

“Listen old man,” Falcon warned, “You should have learned to better tame your lips before speaking to me. You liken me to filth and I cannot let that stand. Take your words back and I may let you keep your tongue.”

“Good morning, Edgar.” His mother said upon his arrival.

“Mother!” Edgars heart took flight. “You’re alive!”

“Of course I am, silly.”

Had it all been some terrible nightmare? He didn’t hesitate to believe it for one second.

“Wheres father?”

“Out gathering some wood for a fire. It might be a good idea for you to see if he needs any help.”

“May I eat first?”

“Of course you may. Such silly questions you have this morning.”

Edgar sat down at the table and awaited breakfast with his mouth watering. It seemed like days since he had last eaten, and why not, his dreams had been so vivid the time lapse seemed too real not to feel the effects of. He sat patiently, still smiling.

“My your bright this morning, Edgar. Good dreams?” His mother asked as she placed his plate in front of him.

“The dreams are not what brighten my face, the fact that they were just dreams is what makes me happy.” He answered as he looked over the meal before him. Eggs, bacon, flapjacks, sweet rye, and jellies. His eyes widened as his mouth flew open for the fork.

“What do your dreams tell you, Edgar?” His mother asked.

“Too much to think of, mother, too many things happening all at once.”

“Well, you can always talk to me about it if it becomes unbearable. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Edgars mother turned to look out the window with a solem expression. She worried a lot about Edgar these days as he had grown more distant. Often she wondered if maybe it was her who had become more distant. Her marriage had become far more awkward than she’d ever imagined and she prayed Edgar would not have to be confronted with the effects of it. Afterall, these problems were not for children, even if it would teach them to grow up, it could have a potentially drastic outcome. She just stared out at the swaying trees while her mind played tag with her heart.

“Edgar. . .”

Edgar recognized that voice from his dream and grew frightened. He looked around for a face to match it, but found nothing. He imagined his mind was playing tricks on him, eventhough the familiarity of the voice struck him as nothing vague. He took a deep breath.

“You should open your eyes. . .”

There it was again, that haunting voice from his dream, that voice that made him tremble. He was home again and nothing had changed, his mother had made him breakfast while his father was out gathering wood. Turning to find his shoes, he found Perrin.

Edgar Littlestone was only 10 years old and the world was clenched tightly in his hands. He had just recently recovered from a violent fever his mother had thought would be the end of him. After his recovery his mother told him that he had just learned the most important lesson in life: never to take anything for granted. When he asked his mother what this meant, she told him to treasure every breath he took as if it were his last. So thats how he lived his life. He experienced everything for the first time every day and never allowed himself to stop counting the stars in the night sky.

Edgar was born to an Elvish mother and Human father, making him a halfbreed, which was largly considered a mistake in parts of Dragonya. His parents union was originally a move towards an alliance between the kingdoms of Paladrin and Kilopilion, but the alliance was shattered when the wizard Midrak cast a spell of ruin upon both kingdoms, hoping to instill hatred in the hearts of the inhabitants. Midrak was slowly driven insane by his visions of a world torn apart and soon after was slaughtered by a dragon of his own creation. Since his death meant the spell could not be removed, the kingdoms of Paladrin and Kilopilion were destroyed. Edgar’s mother and father had escaped the wrath of Midrak, seeking solace near the Owlmere Forest.

A few short years after escaping, Edgars parents started having trouble communicating. It seemed everything they once had in common slowly became their differences. Conversation became trivial, passion became irrational and their emotions grew shallow. Edgars father blamed his birth for their dwindling relationship and assumed Edgar was bore from the remnants of Midrak’s spell. Slowly, his mind began deteriorating and his thoughts were fragmented with spite. He believed his wife to be cursed and that Edgar would only poison any goodness that remained.

Edgar awoke one night to his mothers crying and climbed out of bed to go to her side. Once there, she tried to hide her face from him.

“What’s wrong, mother?” Edgar softly whispered.
“Your father intends to kill you, Edgar.” His mother replied.

Edgar drew back, aghast.

“We must get you out of here, Edgar. You must leave this house, it is filled with ruin and despair.”
“But where shall I go?”
“Far from here. I cannot name a place or give you direction. It is everyones destiny to discover this for themselves.”

Edgars father woke up and tuned into their conversation. The moment he heard his wife tell his son of his intentions, he knew time was running out. If you allow this cursed child to live, all hope is lost. He quickly got to his feet and began searching for his axe, he found it next to a bag of clothes and food. His anger was growing fast. I won’t be able to keep it bottled up much longer, best I use every ounce of it on the beast-child. He wrapped his hands tightly around the axe and charged into the hallway.