Title: The Lantern's Tithe
Word Count: 89,000
Song: Blackbird by The Beatles
Pitch: When Arcanu enrolls in the Academy, he expects to study the theory of magic. Not to be assigned to spy on his twin brother, who is fomenting a rebellion against everything the Academy stands for.
250:
"Arcanu!"
My brother's werelight sparked and flared in the darkness above me. He coaxed the golden orb from his fingertips, sending it drifting upwards to illuminate the room. His scarred hands flickered through a flurry of signs.
Father's here. He told me to wake you. He said he needed to talk to you as soon as possible–
I'll come see him right away, I signed. Just let me get dressed.
Our father– here, now? It was too good to be true. I'd only seen him a handful of times in my life, but he always made me feel like I was his favorite son. Once, when I was little, I even promised him I'd take his place in the Council when I grew up.
What a pretty dream that had been. Pretty, and short-lived.
Could my father still be clinging to the wreckage of that dream? Was that why he'd come? If so, he'd be sorely disappointed.
As I shrugged on my tunic, I noticed that Lycænu was already dressed. He probably hadn't even tried to go to bed– his insomnia had worsened in the weeks since our mother's death. Without waiting for me to finish tying my boots, he darted through the splintering wooden doorway. I hurried after him, bootlaces trailing.
Our father sat cross-legged on the dirt floor. Lycænu knelt beside him, his werelight sallow against the harsher glow of the hearth. Eltenu, Lycænu, and me: a strange, sorry little family, but we were all we had left.
250:
"Arcanu!"
My brother's werelight sparked and flared in the darkness above me. He coaxed the golden orb from his fingertips, sending it drifting upwards to illuminate the room. His scarred hands flickered through a flurry of signs.
Father's here. He told me to wake you. He said he needed to talk to you as soon as possible–
I'll come see him right away, I signed. Just let me get dressed.
Our father– here, now? It was too good to be true. I'd only seen him a handful of times in my life, but he always made me feel like I was his favorite son. Once, when I was little, I even promised him I'd take his place in the Council when I grew up.
What a pretty dream that had been. Pretty, and short-lived.
Could my father still be clinging to the wreckage of that dream? Was that why he'd come? If so, he'd be sorely disappointed.
As I shrugged on my tunic, I noticed that Lycænu was already dressed. He probably hadn't even tried to go to bed– his insomnia had worsened in the weeks since our mother's death. Without waiting for me to finish tying my boots, he darted through the splintering wooden doorway. I hurried after him, bootlaces trailing.
Our father sat cross-legged on the dirt floor. Lycænu knelt beside him, his werelight sallow against the harsher glow of the hearth. Eltenu, Lycænu, and me: a strange, sorry little family, but we were all we had left.
Gold for me please!
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