Young Atronis
Young Atronis, still unmarked and scared, checking the door every night to be sure it’s locked, hoping it’ll be enough to keep anyone out of his parents’ house. Young Atronis waking in the middle of the night with fire burning under the skin, quick legs that reach the dead embers in the kitchen and pure horror when he lights them up. Then joy. Young Atronis who grabs paper and pen the same day, brazen and elegant in the strokes of ink, writing directly to someone who he’d normally never reach, a letter that knows no shame, no doubt. He will be more. Young Atronis waiting awake every night, eyes circled black and secret amulets gotten in grand secret by the dwarven merchant across the street, the one who keeps nice trinkets for him all the time. He keeps them close to his chest, all of them. He’s stronger than demons, he fears demons. This, he will not say. Young Atronis succumbing to sleep, woken softly by his parents, an official letter with an unmistakable sigil sealing it. Young Atronis, swallowing hard and opening the letter that will seal his rise as a mage. One that will not bow to anyone.
