Which Came First? The Crow or the Egg?

[Zedrich Rommelisch]

The small boy hissed as the leather strap fell across his back once more. Oh what torture, oh what torment that such a small, weak, little boy must endure to earn his bread and water for the day. It had only been a small trick, and that other boy had deserved it too! Zeddy had shown him, shown him that being older and stronger meant nothing in the face of being outsmarted! But how it hurt! The young boy was still contemplating whether or not the consequences were of value in his favor or not when the boot hit his bowed body in the midriff and knocked him on his side, cradling his gut with a wounded yelp.

"Get up, boy! This pain is something you will endure and learn to surpass!"

The strike of the next blow caught Zeddy's hand and he howled in response, holding his hand to his mouth as he cried.

"Get your nasty paws away from your mouth, you filthy animal!"

The exposed stomach received another kick which rolled the boy over again. Blunt trauma was a tool that quickly delivered the message that was meant to be imparted upon the young and naive. Zedrich Rommelisch was no exception.

He was seven years old at the time, a novice, and one so young that he was of a group often referred to as toads, or jokingly as familiars, as they for the most part were instructed through servitude, scholastic studies, and harsh discipline and rarely considered a human in the eyes of anyone above them. They hadn't earned that priviledge yet. Not until the first of the trials.

"Your mentor will not be pleased to know you whimpered like a sick dog and lost any sense that you might be something more, huddled there like a gasping fetus. Get up, I say!"

The boot came in towards Zedrich's face and the small boy's eyes went wide in panic. He rolled back and rose into a crouch. His crimson red robes were matted in sand as he slowly stood, wincing as he clutched his sides. The little boy wasn't schooled in anatomy yet and couldn't know that his fragile ribs were cracked or that the pain in his lower back would mean he'd **** blood later that day. He just didn't want to feel that immediate burst of pain anymore.

"You going to run and cry now, boy? Find some dark corner to curl up in and gather your knees to your chest, and let the tears roll? Its not like you have a mother to cry to. Better yet that you learn from this. You are weak. There is always someone stronger, that can cause pain unto you, whelp. But you won't be as lucky as to get away with crying. Like any other predator, you show weakness, and it only provokes them more. You can't even understand this lesson yet boy but I figure I throw enough mud at the fence and eventually it'll stick.

So gather yourself. Your Mentor and Master Mage Agriel will be needing you to perform your duties. Due so in haste, young Zedrich and remember the face of those who have come before you so that their memory might grant you the respect and knowledge to be deserving of what the Mages see in the stars for you."

Wiping his running nose, Zeddy pulled his small crimson robes about his shoulders and sniffled as he bowed as low as he could at the waist, wincing again, before standing, and seeing the recognition of dismissal in the eyes of Taskmaster Blayk Heznersmit. He dashed off, his sandals slapping against the stone floor of the temple as he headed towards his Mentor's quarters.

The corridors of the temple on Kromund Daas were dark but for the spots of light provided by the torches and glow lamps set here and there. The boy knew the corridors well though, his memory had never been of any other place. He tottered to a heavy stone door and reached up on his tippy toes to reach the heavy metal ring. He slammed it three times and then once more as according to his Mentor's orders when announcing his presence.

The door shuddered and moved, sliding up slowly into the space above. There was no light in the room but Zedrich's eyes had already adjusted to the shadows and could see into the room clearly enough to see the two shifting forms on the bed in the back of the room.

To say the Mages of Dromund Kaas lived without luxury would be a lie. It was of older fashion, the temple, having been there for what seemed an eternity, established within the muck and dinginess of the swamps of the planet, a pivotal conjunction of the dark forces of the universe in which the Mages relished. They were secret for the most part and reclusive but they managed a wealth with other sources. Sources that would never claim they received help from such a mythical group as the Mages. Dromund Kaas didn't even exist as far as the galaxy was concerned and the Mages preffered to keep it that way.

The room had bookcases against the walls and the other corner of the room was alive with noises, the small murmurs of caged animals and the gurgling and bubbles of multiple apparatus. Zedrich was the most fascinated with a statue that occupied the left corner closest to the door. It was adorned in crimson robes and armor plates to match. The plates were dressed in runes and in the statue's hands was a halberd that seemed to shine sharp even in the darkness. Zedrich wasn't allowed to touch any of it though, never ever. Or else Master Mage Agriel would melt Zeddy's hands off. Oh how he feared his skin bubbling up and off like Master Mage Agriel had showed him once upon a small vermin that had managed to invade the Mage's quarters.

The two forms shuddered underneath the glimmering sheets and then one lay still. Agriel shifted that he was sitting on the edge of the bed, only covered by the sheets across his lap. He held his face in his hands and rubbed the skin at his temples for a moment before motioning for the boy to approach.

"Novice, fetch me water."

Zedrich moved with purpose, fetching a wide panned bowl and filling it with water from the sink. He slowly scuffled forward to the Master Mage and bowed his head as he offered the bowl. The Mage accepted the bowl with both hands and held the edge to his lips and drank graciously. The boy stood there with head bowed, hands up, ready and waiting to receive the bowl once his Master Mage Mentor had finished.

"You did what to deserve the ire of Taskmaster Heznersmit this morn, Novice Zedrich? Who's face did you not keep your's to remember?"

[Zedrich Rommelisch]

Zeddy's mouth fidgeted and twisted as the boy fought back the tears in order to answer his Master Mage Mentor properly.

"I... Master, I... poisoned... Master Mage Mentor Khof's garden and... staged it as Novice Gregor's fault..."

Agriel smiled as he wiped his mouth with his arm and set the bowl back in Zedrich's hands with the other hand.

"Poisoned, Novice Zedrich? A little extreme to get back at one of your fellow toads for simply bullying you around? With what did you poison Master Khof's garden then?"

"Acidroot sap, Master."

Zeddy rose slowly, his face towards the ground, his large eyes askewed as he tried to catch his Master's reaction while Zedrich moved to put the bowl away.

"By the stars, boy. You went for that toad's balls didn't you? Master Khof will have that slime digging the whole thing up and even replacing the soil. Tell me, Novice Zedrich, what does Acidroot sap do to fauna?"

Young Rommelisch stopped where he was, his face still to the ground.

"Master, it-"

"Look up at me, blast you, toad! You commited the act, if you know what you did at least exert some confidence."

"Yes, Master... Acidroot sap goes into the ground and by... taking the... minerals and nutrients out, it makes the ground so the... fauna can't grow anymore."

"And who told you that?"

"Master Mage Mentor Khof, Master."

"How ironic..."

Agriel stood and grabbed his under robe from the rack beside the bed and donned it, tying it loosely about his waist. With a casual lift of his hand, the fires ingnited upon the oil lamps set into the wall and the room was illuminated. The figure in the bed tossed, covering its head with one of the glossy silk pillows. The voice that followed was muffled by the same pillow.

"The Abyss take you, Agriel. Take me to your bed and then force me to wake so early in the morn, you doghearted slave driver."

Agriel smirked as he moved to the window and opened it, humid air rushing in as well as the smell of thick vegetation.

"You know Phindella, the early bird catches the worm. And doghearted? I didn't know you were into that kind of thing. I figured after last night though, you might've been."

Zedrich was blissfully unaware of what they were talking about but was moreover very happy that Agriel had seemed to have moved on without laying any further punishment on the child.

"Boy, bring me my robes."

Zedrich rushed over to the other side of the bed and grabbed the under robe and middle robe that were thrown over the nearby table. He turned and handed them to the outstretched arm of Mistress Mage Phindella who was now sitting up in the bed, her upper body exposed. Agriel turned, quickly hiding his smile with a scowl at Zedrich.

"Turn your eyes you mynock!"

Not that Zedrich had intended to look, he quickly let the robes go in her hand and then stepped away and moved towards the table beside the window where Agriel stood.

"Our morning incantations won't bother you, will they Phindella?"

"Oh not at all, you go right ahead, Agriel. I'd hate to keep you from your seer nonsense."

Agriel shot a look of disapproval over his shoulder as he sunk to his knees inside a circle that had runes and designs drive throughout the entire diagram. A smaller one was at Zedrich's feet which he followed in suit to be kneeling inside of. Agriel started the incantation; Zedrich murmured the same words only a breath afterwards.

"Lalolaesi, Taraes eil Mali... (Universe, Master and Slave...)
Shi, varn os os shor eir sai shi kalaer si mol os si mas, (We, pawns of your will ask for the insight of the stars,)
Sar shi tae mi ailai si pasaer eil taji varn os si mas, (That we may see into the darkness and make pawns of the stars,)
Si mel voraer jhaer iar cyrn os si shendrolol sar shi tae cyrn si ael. (The sun rises, let us know of the beginning that we may know the end.)

The incantation was routine by now, and at this age, Zedrich meant every word, and behind each word, he thought he could hear the wings of a large bird.

[Zedrich Rommelisch]

Zedrich sat cross-legged, cradled in the roots of a large tree. No sun light reached the damp ground, the looming trees above ensuring that no other plant but the parasitic vines and the carnivorous fauna could make their way beneath the canopy.

In black breeches and a blood red robe, the young Zedrich slowly and carefully drew runes into the dirt before him, and upon finishing, ritualistically placed the dissected organs of the small animal he had caught and killed just that morning. The wind caught the leaves above him and Zedrich could hear whispers in the gentle breeze. No other creature stirred in this territory, and Zedrich would not have been afraid had there been. It was not the living to be worried about in these woods.

This was Zedrich's birthweek, his thirteenth, and recognized the period of his first trial and actual induction into the Order of the Mages of Dromund Kaas. If he could survive, Zedrich would become an Apprentice Mage. If he could survive was the real question. Two years ago, Novice Gregor had gone up for his first trial, one week in the Hallowed Hollow, the novices called it. Young Novice Gregor had never been heard of again, and it was the mindset of the Mages to quickly forget those who fail in their trials.

If anything, Zedrich had seen the event of Gregor's demise as ultimately beneficial. The Hallowed Hollows had simply saved young Zedrich the trouble of eventually removing Gregor himself.

And now Zedrich found himself facing the same threat. No sun light made its way to the Hollow but still, with adjusted eyes, Zedrich could see with one glo-lamp that he lit at night, knowing it was night by the dramatic change in temperature. During the day, light, from the sides of the Hollow, barely made it way within, casting formless silhouettes across the blue and black environment that Zedrich existed within.

"Lalolaesi, Taraes eil Mali... (Universe, Master and Slave...)
Shi, varn os os shor eir sai shi kalaer si mol os si mas, (We, pawns of your will ask for the insight of the stars,)
Sar shi tae mi ailai si pasaer eil taji varn os si mas, (That we may see into the darkness and make pawns of the stars,)
Si mel voraer jhaer iar cyrn os si shendrolol sar shi tae cyrn si ael. (The sun rises, let us know of the beginning that we may know the end.)"

Zedrich's head turned sharply as he heard the flapping of a large bird there in the Hollows. No creature would tread into this place, it was embedded with pain and hatred, feeding on the fears of the weak and empowering nightmares, Master Mage Agriel had said as much. Anything that was within the Hollows, came from the Hollows, and it was to be respected accordingly, with fear if Zedrich was smart, Agriel had said.

A trap. It was a trap, Zedrich had determined. Given logic, the Hollows used fear to fuel its designs, so then why would Zedrich so quickly surrender to such a notion? The young Apprentice-to-be had wondered many times whether or not Master Mage Agriel intended to kill him just to be released as Master Mage Khof had been unburdened by the death of Novice Gregor.

And then there were the eyes.

Golden irises, they seemed to emit their own light in that humid darkness that Zedrich could not but find unnerving. And then that noise, it cawed, and Zedrich's very soul shook with the echo that resonated within the Hollows.

A cloud was my mother,
The wind is my father,
My son is the cool stream,
And my daughter is the fruit of the land.
A rainbow is my bed,
The ground my final resting place,
And I'm the Torment of Man.

What am I?

Water? Rain?

If you have it,
You want to share it.
If you share it,
You don't have it.

Blast, this was nonsense. Is this how he would entertain himself? Talking to himself in this darkness, imagining those piercing eyes, that waited there still.

If you have it,
You want to share it.
If you share it,
You don't have it.

I don't bloody know!

Ais o cali air
O Shal sai masi air
Ais o masi air
O ply's cali air

Bloody Circle of Sith Spit, keep your secrets then!"

Yes, secrets...

[Zedrich Rommelisch]

The flapping wings caused a black wind that howled like death and it flowed through the Great Hall. The cawing of that damnable bird crushed his ears and the stained glass windows shattered, light flowed through but was immediately swallowed by the black feathers that fell to the ground. They swallowed all of the light until the Black Wind consumed him too and...

*Gasp*

Zed sat straight up in bed, hurling the leathers off of him, bracing himself against the stone wall beside him as he wiped the sweat from his neck, gasping for air.

"Oh Zeddy, nightmares again?"

He turned, flipping his pale blond hair out of his face to look at the bare back of the woman beside him, her long, dark hair taking up the rest of her pillow and his, an annoyance if there ever was one, but if it wasn't good for...

"I swear, Phindella, the Abyss has your soul and you can still sleep so long each day?"

"Its called beauty sleep and your Master Mage Agriel never understood it either, now shove off and go have your nightmares in some other bed, just not mine, I swear.

Zedrich shuffled out of bed and threw the blankets back on the bed without much grace, earning a grunt from the ageless woman still residing there. He grabbed his robes from the ground where he had left them the night before and slid them over his shoulders.

"Its a shame you stay clothed so often, Zeddy."

"I was hoping you were back and sleeping so I didn't have to hear you speak again before I left so I could consider this a good day."

"Oooo, so brutal for a good bye, Agriel is raising them right these days."

The door shut with a cold silence, thankfully. But blast it was a bright morning. Zedrich was sure Phindella had not aged a day since her granting of Master Mage because she had not seen the light of day, or at least for too long. Agriel had explained it though, that some spent their powers in different ways, to one end or another, for their own designs. Phindella could cast the most basic rituals but clung to her beauty in such a fashion that she truly had not aged. Agriel had suggested that she might still die at the age of 80 like any normal human, or much older like the Mages could stretch out their lifespan, but then again...

Life was short when everyone plotted against each other, and did not do it just on impulse but in years and years of planning, and star gazing, do not forget the star gazing. In fact...

"What did you learn, my Apprentice? Did Master Mage Phindella aid you in your lack of capabilities in reading the stars?"

Zedrich blushed immediately, his Mentor already awake, earlier than usual, and having obviously already said his morning ritual with dust on the knees of his robe. To Zedrich's young eyes, Agriel had not aged much either, thinking back to the days when they had traveled the swamps of Kromund Daas after his initiation in the Hallowed Hollows six years ago. That had seemed like a life time for the young man, six years in the Wilds. But Agriel said time was relative, the stars knew that, they existed in and out of time, they began and faded just like people but people could, if they truly tried, could perceive beyond the darkness and in and out of those tiny lights in the sky.

"Well?"

"Master, she taught me many things, of which I hope I can now meet your expectations-"

"In what, my fool of an Apprentice? In pillow talk? The stars, you blasted ingrate! You've not seen enough of the moons to bed that banshee. You think you were afraid of the power in the darkness of the Hallowed Hollows and you slept with that? She'll suck the youth out of you; for that matter, all of them will."

"Master..."

"Don't waste the fragrant air of my chambers, idiot, go find a stick and be ready."

Zedrich's eyes widened at this order. He must have truly overstepped some boundary with this one. Agriel had not had to touch his staff since they had returned a number of months ago. It had only taken a number of beatings before he had gotten young Rommelisch back into the swing of things at the temple.

He left the open chambers and went out into the courtyard, finding a stick that would suit for whatever illusion of self defense that Zedrich might be able to conjure. Agriel appeared thereafter, his chest bare, the upper part of his robes resting at his hips, held up by his belt. Agriel had runes scarred into his entire body, gifts he had called them, and black lines that were inked into the flesh that connected them all like a spider web. His brown hair had silver tips but his face still looked like it had iron underneath that layer of flesh. His good eye was an intense blue, bluer than any sky Zedrich would ever see. His other eye had been scarred nearly two years ago in a fight against what Agriel referred to as the "natives". This was no disadvantage though, not that Zedrich could tell.

"Now, my apprentice."

And that was all Zedrich got. Agriel's staff was made of some obsidian stone that had violently pink crystal runes embedded into its surface of which Rommelisch got a better chance to inspect as it slammed into his collarbone. Zedrich went down to a knee but brought his stick up to stop the next blow. His hands shook with a cold vibration when he stopped it but that time gave him enough to regain his footing.

Agriel stood still, his eyes locked with Zedrich's, and then he opened his mouth to say something. Rommelisch took that as an invitation and lunged, bringing his weapon in horizontally. The end of Agriel's staff that was resting in the dirt was suddenly striking Zedrich underneath his arm, right in his pit that jarred his entire body. Agriel frowned, a bad sign for any who did not know, and the next blow caught Zedrich in his thigh. The boy yelped in pain but nonetheless twirled the staff hand over hand trying to push back his Mentor. Agriel took one step back, not several like intended, and then lunged forward, catching Zedrich's staff with his bare hand.

"The stars would have told you last night about this morning, and about last night. Phindella most likely saw the same, as I did a fortnight ago. I set you up or would it have happened without my influence, do you think?"

An unseen force hit Zedrich like an uppercut. The staff remained in Agriel's hand while Zedrich fell backwards, his hands immediately going to his face, his jaw clenched tight in fear that it might be broken.

"You are a lover then, is it? Not a fighter? Shame. Go see Master Mage Phindella then, I am no longer your Mentor."

Zedrich's eyes finally came to focus as the back of Agriel disappeared into the shadow of his chambers.

======= A Year Ago: In the Swamps of Kromund Daas =======

"Master, this dream I keep having..."

"The darkness again? With wings?"

"Yes, its-"

"I know what it is, boy. We Mages, we all dream of the Black Wind. But the bird you so infatuate about, that is something else. The Black Wind will come for us Mages and it will sweep us away from Kromund Daas. But that bird..."

It was dark and not even the moons could shed light in these depths of undergrowth. There was a long pause before the younger shuffled where he lay.

"Master?"

"I'm afraid I am not truly your master, my young friend. Never speak of anyone that I said this, but you serve something beyond. No Mage will ever be your master."

The silence persisted.

"Uhhhh..."

"Nevermind it, my apprentice. Forget what I said then and remain a fool. Shut up and sleep."

And the silence continued.

[Zedrich Rommelisch]

"Does that hurt?"

Her gorgeous eyes went from her work to his and then back down again.

"What about that? Does that hurt?"

No response as she continued without hesitation. She pulled away, licked blood from her fingernail before placing her hands on her hips, examining her artwork, dare she consider it a masterpiece.

Zedrich could not respond because Master Mage Phindella, his mentor of two years now had sewn his lips shut the night before. It had not made the ensuing events any easier either. The artwork as Phindella had referred to it had started before the prime star had risen in the morning sky. It was a little past noon and the time of no shadow now and Zedrich, thanks to Phindella's mentorship of late, had withstood the pain with little trouble. It had been extremely intensive to be frank but the last two years had been relatively unbearable in the realm of pain in comparison to any time spent under the steel eye of Agriel. Ah, Agriel had been so correct in that in Phindella had been a demoness most unexpected. Her sadism knew no bounds to the young Rommelisch and if her amusement did not satisfy her, than her misery would supplement. Abyss take her, she was quite beautiful though.

"I have to say, Zeddy, I did all that work to shut you up and keep you quiet and I'm not sure it accomplished anything. Oh but it has been a while, and to get such a... prime... specimen grown and raised by Agriel too..."

Her eyes went somewhere else, she saw beyond him, beyond the room, to somewhere else. She did that all too often and usually before she came up with some other sadistic scheme of artistic appreciation. Inspired by the stars, or the light, or the darkness, she would say a number of sources but it all eventually came down to the Black Wind.

"Si Shas Shol tystaer thys eir os iar ol si shol os ei paer mas. O, Valael, eisi si Casolaes."

Valael? In his dreams, which remained a constant and relatively unchanging torment since the Hallowed Hollows, the them had sometimes referred to themselves as a/the Valael depending on the context. Valael. Raven. Phindella never liked to speak of his dreams, saying it was a waste to visit there, wherever there was, in person when one could simply stare into it while waking and make so much better sense of it. But now she chose to use an exact phrase? Not that he could retort either.

Her eyes refocused and she moved to him as if she had not skipped a beat. So much for making sense of her sight while awake; half the time she had not the faintest. Zed could not imagine the difficulty of this if she did not have him or anyone else nearby to record whatever nonsense she might suddenly spurt out.

"So what do you think? I mean, it's your real estate in the long run, Zeddy."

Her pale hands ran down his bare shoulders, running over the bloodied scars embedded into his skin. There were so many more though, and not like Agriel's connected by ink. All of these were connected to each other making one as a whole and if anyone ever had the chance to skin Zedrich and map it all out... Well, they would just have to figure it out at that point because Phindella never intended on telling anyone, least of all herself.

"Well, maybe I'll wait until I'm finished with you for the night before I set your mouth free. For all the good you might bring with it, your knack for ruining a moment never seems to fail you, Zeddy."

Rommelisch almost rolled his eyes, but given he was restrained by rope and lashed to a supporting beam in the room, he had little to really no avenue of escape. Instead he shrugged as nonchalantly as he could.

She slapped him maybe half as hard as she might if he had said something right then. Or been able to.