PROLOGUE
Goodbye, mother.
I hated winter.
During winter, it was harder to get food, it was harder to find shelter. And most of all, it was freezing.
I hated every part of it. The way she shivered, how her lips turned blue.
But she never complained, not once. She pressed on and every time our eyes locked, she smiled faintly, as if it had cost her something to make the notion.
It made me feel unease, like I was in her way. Well, I guess I was, what else could a child be in these harsh times. She barely survived on her own, and now she had to keep me alive as well?
At the very least, food wasn’t something we fought each other for. After all my tastes were… different.
I craved the magical power wielded by mages, the very essence of their being. I had to devour them in order to survive, and my mother helped me. She was a mage herself, yet she betrayed her fellow magic-wielders, sentencing them to death, and she watched me paint the white snow with their blood.
All in order to keep me alive.
It was selfish.
I wondered if she ever regretted it. Regretted meeting my father and choosing him. Did she regret that she kept me even when he disappeared?
What did she see when she watched me devour other mages? A monster? An abomination? Her son?
It was as if she noticed my thoughts, her hand reached out and brushed through my hair.
“It is fine,” she smiled. “We’re fine.”
It wasn’t fine.
“You’re cold,” I said.
“I’m okay.”
Another lie, she wasn’t anywhere near okay. She was starving, she was cold and on the brink of giving up. I saw it, in the way her eyes seemed colder for each day we traveled.
Then, the smell of her magic crashed into my senses; the smell of blooming flowers, fresh food and the warmth of the sun. Air magic always carried the world along with its scent.
The beast inside me woke, tried to claw its way through to the surface. I pushed her hand away, wrapped my arms around me as if holding myself away from her. But my teeth bared against my will as I snarled at her.
My mother’s eyes widened for a brief moment, before they turned blank.
“It hurts,” I muttered, fighting against the urge.
“Don’t worry, it will be fine,” she comforted, but she didn’t dare take another step towards me.
When? When would it become better? I was barely able to hold it back, the hunger and urge to kill driving me mad, holding it back brought unbearable pain.
“Mom… It really hurts.”
Slowly, she took my hand, brushing her thumb over my knuckles. “You’re a strong boy, you can get through it.”
I wasn’t, I was watching her neck pulsate and wondered what air magic taste like.
“Pain is there to remind us of how strong we are,” she continued and my eyes finally left her neck. “We must never give in.”
Her brown eyes were like open windows, every ache, torment and regret shining through. And somehow, they grew hollower at the same time.
