Me and the Devil

Every day the shrine seemed to grow on him, the strange arrangement of stones and the glowing pool they surrounded spoke to him of power, a power that he felt was not so dissimilar to the vague whispers he had heard on Mt. Vulcan. The spirits of Ruina, or the demons as his father had called them.

His anger for his father had dissipated, slowly but surely, until all that remained was a raw soreness that ached whenever he thought of the great beast of a man. He wondered if he could do his father’s pack justice with Erövrare and bitterly reminded himself that Acere had already taken his youngest siblings to live in Abaven rather than stand beside him.

He sat beside the glowing pool, scrying for meaning in the swirling blue and silver colors, hoping for…What exactly? Permission from his father? A blessing from his ancestors? He couldn’t say, he simply watched the kaleidoscopic display, and allowed his thoughts to wander.  

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