“Triad?”

“Triad?”

“Come now my child, awaken.”

I have only one memory of my parents.

“That’s my boy. Let me see you.”

That’s the only reason I’m sure I even had any.

“Open your eyes.”

I can’t see her face. But I can hear her voice. Lilting, flowing, soothing. I feel her presence close to me. It relaxes me, calms me. I want always to be near her. To hold always this feeling of love. It is pure happiness to me.

“Honey, Triad is awake. Come see your boy.”

“Ha ha, me lad. Let’s have a look at ye now. Smile for daddy.”

His presence is different, his voice lower. He conveys a sense of strength. Those big hands, those strong arms. He holds me and I have no fear. The world may turn against me, but in my fathers arms, there was nothing but protection.

It is my most fond memory. Those moments with my parents. I smiled my biggest smile, and they cooed with delight. I was their son. Their beloved. I would be with them forever, and they would protect me. They would always love me.

Blood.

Don’t ask me how I knew what it looked like. But I did. My mothers arm left the rest of her body. The hairy, smelly beast crawled the rest of the way through the door. It exuded evil it blackened the air and poisoned the land. I cried, with all my heart I cried. As did my father.

“Nooooo! Beast! Back! Back I say!”

The beast didn’t listen, they never listen. His teeth sunk into her flesh, he tore at her, spraying her life across the room, staining the walls forever. Another one came in the door, headed for my father. He grabbed at his sword, swinging it with all his hatred. All his strength. He placed the sword into its shoulder, it fell back a step. Another score of the evil ones scrambled in from all directions. Smashing up through the floor. Crawling through the widows. They were too much for him. And he too, fell with a scream. Blood sprayed the room again.

Sitting in my crib, I wished upon all my strength to frighten the beasts away. It did nothing. They crawled toward me, and then parted as a gigantic man came into view. He laughed at my parents, called them weak, called ME weak. I was weak. He picked me up, I beat at him with my little hands. He laughed again: deep, heavy, victorious. He pulled out a knife and flashed it before me. I felt something, but I can’t remember what. More blood, then more darkness. I didn’t want to take another nap….

17 years later

“Triad, I’ll tell you again, I’ll not be having you shape swords and the like from my good wood. Carpentry is an art, not a war. And put that knife down!”

He raised me, I guess I should be glad for that. But he always told me to stay away from the path of the fighters, the mages, the ones that had power. Power that I wanted. Revenge that I wanted. I was to be a carpenter, I knew I couldn’t be.

Someday, I swore I would gain power. I would find the dark man and call down fire from the heavens to scorch his flesh. I would find all the demons and crush them.

Someday soon, I knew.

Then I could find my peace.

Mother?

Father?

I’m coming.

Written this fifteenth day of the fourth month. The mage Triad, of the 11 th circle.