one can hear the young boy screaming, even from behind the throne room doors meant to shut him out. he kicks and flails as the white-and-gold guards pull him from his master’s sight, spears clenched tightly in their other hands as though the child could pose any threat. he reaches down into the depths of his power, trying to summon the quake of the earth or the blaze of a terrible flame--but no magic comes to save him now, not when he’s held in a magic-canceling grasp.
“master, please,” he begs, tears leaping to the corners of his eyes and pouring down his half-ruined face. “you can’t send me there. you can’t send me away.”
“you have no say in what i can or can’t do,” danomir snarls coldly. “if you truly knew the meaning of the word master, you wouldn’t even think what you just said.”
his panic mounts as he’s dragged from the high elvish emperor’s sight, his legs and torso sagging on the floor. he begs the guards. he begs the gods. still he feels the pull on his arms, so harsh and fast that he feels like they’re being ripped from their sockets.
“master!” he cries. “MASTER!”
“oh, trust me, selvar. i understand. i, too, regret your injuries,” danomir drawls, leaning back on his throne. “but a tarnished jewel, alas, is no jewel at all. and i have room in my collection only for the finest gems in the land.”
he has time only to say one more thing before the doors close once again.
“master…i thought you loved me.”
he senses a presence nearby. he knows who it is, and he can’t bear to look. in the shining halls of the so-called high elvish freedom, he fought for a love and a privilege that he never really had…and now he’s back to where he was born, alone in a dim-lit cage filled with straw. he buries his face in his knees for a few moments, ashamed of his scars, afraid of the path before him. then he realizes that this will be the last look he ever gets at his dearest friend, and he finally turns around.
“did you come to say goodbye?”
