Legacy of the Remembered

13. Ruination

Despite being the reason for his abduction, Eske loved his magic. As a child, he enjoyed the boost of energy he could give himself whenever he felt tired. When his parents forced him to retire to bed, it came naturally to him to deplete his energy until he felt the lull of sleep. There were endless possibilities for him. Bohjin and Eske could play for hours, aided by the energy manipulation the latter partook in.

Life remained simple.

And then Eske was stolen from his home, carried away to a foreign land that wanted nothing more than to harness his magic. He stowed those memories away, not wishing to think on the events that went down in Panjuun.

Upon his rescue, Eske hated his magic. Or, he thought he did. He blamed it, but he loved it all the same. While it was the cause of his capture, it also played a role in helping him remain sane. His powers directly tied to Jule, a mage who helped to found Ehvera. His magic became his remnant of home, his proof that he did not belong in Panjuun.

At the age of nine, Eske's first Unity Festival since his return came around. The idea of freely practicing the skill that brought attention to him scared Eske. His fear drove him to lock himself away, joined in his room by his siblings and mother as the festivities went on without delay. Knowing that his kingdom still enjoyed the holiday felt odd to the child. How could they celebrate the very thing that made them targets?

Yet, what made them targets also birthed their pride. Ehvera, the Kingdom of Life Magic. The one and only kingdom with that specialty.

At the age of ten, Eske returned to the fairgrounds.

That year, his people greeted him with smiles and love. Animals roamed the fields, spells lighting up the night when the sun fell past the horizon. It embodied everything he loved about magic, about Ehvera. And so, that night, he began a tradition.

He danced.

He smiled.

And he freely expressed his inner abilities among the safety of his people. He amplified those around them, allowing grander shows of magic than normally possible. There, he was one of many Ehverians that loved their birthright. There, no enemies lurked in shadows. It was a celebration of the very thing that kept him from falling to Panjuun.

Ever since then, the Unity Festival became his favorite time of the year.

Which made it hurt all the more when he heard the screams.

The torches went out, and for a moment, Eske's own pendant blinded him. Then he saw the crackling red light. Though visible itself, all Eske could make out of the area surrounding the light was a hand, centered in the glow. Someone wielded the magic, but they were not the one with the wind spells. No, that had been typical wind magic. This, however, Eske had never seen.

"Your Highness!"

Eske ignored the call, frozen in place as he stared at the spot from which the magic originated. No, this could not be happening. Not here, not during the one event he felt safe. This was Ehvera's Festival. This was their time to be who they were without fear of external forces controlling that.

Yet, he heard the screams. He heard his people running in terror as another blast of wind erupted from the darkness. He nearly fell over himself, if not for the hands supporting him.

"My Prince, we must go," one of his guards urged, but Eske refused to move.

The hands faltered as his rage fueled his power. This was his kingdom. These were his people being attacked. How dare these invaders ruin Ehvera. Never again would his kingdom suffer at the hands of another nation, another arrogant people trying to steal their pride.