9th of Lamashan - Secrets

Quietly, Nuari walked the hall of the White Deer. It was good to be home. Home... Is that what this was now? A dingy inn room in a small town in the middle of nowhere? He'd spent the last night on a woodland excursion with Zeyre. Instead of being relaxing though, he felt exhausted. They gnome seemed to have taken a personal interest in 'fixing' him. Despite what he knew and what his uncle had drilled into him from such a young age... She had a new pupil though... A badger. Perhaps he would distract her for a while... The others wanted to travel back to Thistletop, though it seemed Zeyre wished for a week to get acquainted with her new pet. He didn't mind. It wasn't like he relished the idea of ever going back to that place again...

As he opened the door to his room he was startled to find another surprise. A familiar leather bound book that they found after Nualia died. 'Died'... Interesting way to remember it, he grimaced unconsciously. His fingers trembled softly as he ran them along the spine of the book. He'd only glanced at it previously... Would it hold any answers for him?

As he flipped through the pages he quickly became engrossed in the story unfolding before him. It was not however the story he wanted to hear... Frustrated he tossed the journal onto the bed decided to go get a drink, when something caught his eye. A piece of paper sticking out of the inside cover. Afraid he may have damaged something that could be of use later... he quickly opened the book to fix the pages. To his surprise a loose sheet of paper fell out, tri-folded and sealed with a glop of black wax. Curiously he opened it and read the contents.

Lamashan the 8th, 4710 A.R.

To my fellow Hero of Sandpoint, Nuari Stormcloud.

I was concerned to find your room empty after the last terrifying days we've spent in Thistletop but upon reading the note you left with Garridan, I'm glad to hear that you're not alone out there. Considering these latest events, it was my intention to make myself available to you for conversation if you so desired. Do know that I wish for such a dialogue, that I wish to know more about the fears that haunt you as much as I wish to share those that haunt me, but I cannot help but understand the delicacy of such matters.

We fear ourselves, do we not? We fear what we might become, and whom we might hurt or be rejected by in the process. The future can be murky indeed, but I hope you have found that you need not deal with your fears on your own.

I've spoken with Father Zantus of Nualia, hoping for confirmation that she was indeed of celestial blood, and he was able to tell me of particular traits that marked her heritage as divine in origin. Violet eyes and silver hair with a peculiar metallic sheen were the most superficial of these proofs. A natural ability to create light as well as some resistances to different types of energies, though no resistance to fire, was more telling. I don't want to know how they tested these things... Father Tobyn, Father Zantus and no one in town seemed to have any doubt whatsoever that the foundling discovered on the steps of temple had celestial blood somewhere in her ancestry. As evidenced by her journal, Nualia believed the same, and hated that 'taint' within her.

Though I don't know when you'll return, I wanted to leave this journal for you as I'm sure you'll want to spend some time looking through it on your own. If you do feel the anger getting out of hand, I'll not be far away.

I hope that this journal might serve as evidence to you as it did to me, that in spite of our blood and heritage, our paths are our own for good or ill. We may have powers that would pull us toward one morality or another, we may struggle, but choice yet remains!

~ Morelen

Silently he read and reread the letter. He remembered their previous conversation fondly. She also seemed to place much faith on his own inherent 'goodness'. They had promised to be a listening ear to each other should one need it. Rereading it again, he wasn't sure what this new conversation entail... After the emotional beating he'd taken from Zeyre... he wasn't really in the mood to hear how foolish he was... not again. It was possible this meeting was less about him... and more about herself. Perhaps a new ability... a recovered memory... And he had promised.

Nuari had little pride in his heritage. In his mind, he was a very poor elf. He found little joy in the world around him, much like the 'forlorn' that the true elves pitied so greatly. His blood was impure... He had harmed other elves... on but a whim, he could subvert someones free will and bend them to his own will... There was very little of the noble elven qualities that he could take pride in....

But he could still keep his word when given.

Rising from the bed he strode purposefully out to the hall. In hindsight, he grabbed a pitcher of water and a couple of glasses. Morelon's thirst seemed greater lately... truly manifesting itself when the crossed that river the other day. He had thought she intended to drink it dry...

Gently he rapped on her door. "Morelon.... It's me. Nuari..."

The sorceress stood by the window of her small room, using the early afternoon light to better see the reflection in her hand mirror. The wide leather neckband she always wore had been uncinched, allowed to hang down her front from the thin strip of iridescent blue fabric that attached it to the bodice of her dress. Morelen carefully stretched her neck to each side.

There'd been a sort of tightness lately along the barely seen scarline just below her larynx, as if the flesh to either side was being pulled taut. It was...uncomfortable. The sutures at her neck had been the longest in healing. Apparently it was difficult to properly attach a head to a foreign body... But they had healed and as thoroughly as she inspected the line of even paler white skin, she didn't see that there was any superficial problem with the scar.

With a sigh of relief, Morelen peered out the window to find that a raven had alighted on a branch just outside and appeared to be watching her. Spectral blue eyes narrowed and she was about to throw open the pane and blast the thing out of the tree when suddenly there came a tapping as of someone gently rapping, rapping at her chamber door.

Startled, the small mirror slipped from her hand and fell to the wooden floor where it shattered into a thousand pieces.

The raven cawed.

"One moment please, Nuari," she called out in a wavering voice as she cinched her collar back into its appropriate place. She stepped over the shards of glass and moved over to the door, removing the lock before opening it.

If it hadn't been for his elvish heritage, they might have been mistaken for siblings. Pale skin, with but a flush of color more than Morelen possessed, and stark white hair crowned an angular face that today at least, appeared quite weary.

"It's good to see you, my friend. Please, come in!" The sorceress offered a sincere smile that would have held warmth if she had any to give. "Excuse the mess...I...have the occasional bout of clumsiness."

"I hope I'm not disturbing you..." Nuari said, stepping into the room slowly. His almond eyes scanned the room for the broken object. The sound of breaking glass hadn't hidden from his pointed ears and he felt bad that his actions, however inadvertent had caused his teammate distress.

"I just wanted to thank you for the journal... and I read your note. If you wished to have that talk, I'm at your disposal."

He raised up the pitcher and glasses. "It's only water, but you've seemed thirstier then usual lately. But if now's a bad time... I can come back later.."

"No, not at all..." Morelen eyed the pitcher of water desirously as she cleared the tomes and scrolls from the desk, then offered for the elf to sit in her chair.

It was a good-sized room with a west-facing window which was bookended by a set of heavy blue drapes. The bed looked completely pristine. Not a pillow dented nor a cover wrinkled. The sorceress wasn't as tidy as all that, she simply didn't sleep on the bed finding it far too soft for her liking. A few sketches of various Thassilonian rune symbols were tacked to the walls in hopes that their presence might waken the memories of her former life that still lay dormant. Another pitcher of water, this one long empty, and a glass sat on a small table near the window.

She pulled on her long black gloves moved toward Nuari to relieve him of his burden. "May I?" Morelen asked before taking the water and glasses from him and setting them upon the desk where she promptly, with slightly trembling hands, filled both their cups. She drained hers in one painful swallow.

"You're not disturbing me," she nodded to her companion, "I was just contending with that blasted raven again. He stares me down he does, like he knows something I don't know."

The sorceress jabbed an accusatory finger toward the window, where just outside the large, black bird ruffled its feathers in response. Not for the first time, she wondered if that was the same one that took the boat ride with her from Magnimar... Hard to tell. They all looked the same to her!

Days ago now, Zerye had explained the difference between a crow and a raven after she'd used the names interchangeably for the stuffed bird dangling from her spear. Ravens apparently were larger with wedge-shaped tails, while crows, like the corpsified one, were usually small and with fan-shaped tails. While she appreciated learning the distinction, to Morelen there was little difference. Dirty, carrion-eating birds...

With a sigh of frustration, she stepped over the pile of broken glass toward the window. "I've named him Nevermore..." Raising her voice, she blustered at the raven. "Because that's when I'd prefer to see him. You hear that you blighted bird! Never! More!" She grabbed the curtains roughly and slammed them shut before turning her attention back to Nuari.

"Sorry about that." The smooth, cold voice returned as Morelen composed herself and she moved back over to pour herself another glass of water.

After draining that one as well, she pulled over a second chair from the corner of the room and began cautiously.

"I'm glad you came... I was concerned for you after the fight with Nualia. It's to my shame that I've waited this long to talk to you about it, but I'm hoping that at least you might have found something helpful in the journal... Any answers to your own questions?"

"No." His face crinkled a little as he amended "Well, maybe... but not the answers I'd hoped for..." In truth the journal had revealed little that they hadn't already known, but the young elf had hoped for so much more.

"It explains how she planned to change her blood... but that doesn't help me. I haven't heard any whispers of saintly gods offering me anything, so that hope is futile." He stopped suddenly as he realized she may not know what he meant. Truth was, the idea hadn't even come to him till yesterday. Something he'd said to Zeyre had tickled the back of his mind... and that tickle had grown to a hope... a hope that had been dashed.

"Y'see... I'd thought... maybe... if SHE was able to remove the 'taint' from her blood... Maybe "I" could too." He frowned as he remembered the words of the journal. "Doesnt' look like an option though... It seems Lamashtu was the one who offered the change... and unless I start hearing voices, I'm stuck as is...

"What about you?" he said trying to change the subject. "Have any of your lost memories returned?"

Frosted eyebrows raised as she contemplated his admission of hope. Though she wanted to continue with that line of thought, Morelen respected his wishes and instead of pressing him, chose to answer his question.

"A few memories have returned," she admitted with a slight nod. "Voices... A small study... The feel of a leather-bound tome... Fragments of an old life but they do me very little good in such small shards. Once I piece them together, I may actually be able to get a good look at who I used to be."

Morelen peered over her shoulder at the shattered mirror on the floor. It was a good metaphor for her mind in this state.

"There have been some developments in my condition, as you've noted." She waved a hand toward the pitcher of water, thought about it for a fraction of a second and then poured herself a third glass. "I made quite a spectacle of myself at Thistle River, didn't I... It's an uncomfortable feeling to be so thirsty all the time but I'm learning to manage it."

The third glass was drained as quickly as the first two. "If you'll allow my curiosity Nuari, do you suffer from...changes as well? Do you find that your body is altering itself in any way?"

"Physical changes?" The elf shook his head. "I've noticed the power getting stronger. What I did to Nuali... the fire..." His voice choked on the word. "I've never seen it that... intense."

He sighed and took a drink. "Other things... like the ability to see Magical emanations. I'm not sure if it's just becoming more natural to look for them... or if it's just happening. I don't really 'will' it to happen anymore..."

His eyes shot open as he remembered something else that was new. Something he had discovered after his temper tantrum while waiting for Zeyre to return.. Quickly he scanned the room for a light. Two everburning torches sat in plain sight... but that wasn't what he wanted.

Candles had been left out, just like in his own room.... but oddly, these looked like they've never been lit. Quickly he pulled one over to the table and started to light it.

"This may be considered a physical change... but I don't know what it means... " As the flame crawled to life and danced at the end of the wick, Nuari held his hand over it. After just a few moments, he lowered his hand into the flame and held Morelen's gaze. Finally he extinguished the fire with the palm of his hand and held it up to see.

Not even a singe mark marred the smooth elven flesh.

The sorceress shifted uncomfortably as he lit the candle, scooting her chair back a tiny bit. She never used fire anymore if there was any other choice. Thanks to the recently deceased Lyrie, there were two Everburning torches that made her life just that much easier!

As Nuari held his hand over the open flame, Morelen emitted a gasp of sympathized pain but from the neutral expression on the elf's face, he felt nothing... She wore her surprise openly on her porcelain features. His flesh didn't scorch at all...

She nodded slowly after recovering and pushed herself back to her place at the table now that the candle had been put out again. "Father Zantus mentioned that Nualia's resistances to certain energies were indicative of her divine heritage... Perhaps this resistance to flame is evidence of your own?"

The question waited with anticipation on her tongue, begging to be loosed, but Morelen didn't feel right about asking it just yet. Perhaps a show of good faith... A shared trust.

"I've discovered something...similar in myself." One by one, Morelen slowly peeled off her long black gloves and rested them to the side of the table. With an arcane word muttered under her breath, an icy blue light gathered about one arm and was drawn into her index finger before a crackling beam of frigid cold shot from that finger into her opposite hand. Minute crystals of frost glittered over her white skin where the beam had struck.

"Fire makes me very uncomfortable," the sorceress admitted, looking across the table at her companion. "But cold... Cold I don't really feel anymore. On the outside at least..."

Even from this distance she could feel the heat emanating from the elf. His blood seemed to run a bit warmer than others in town. At first she wondered if it might be an elven thing but after his demonstration, she realized it was likely something quite different.

Raising her hand level to her lips, Morelen gently blew off the crystals, watching them rain down onto the table in a tiny flurry of snow.

Nuari's nose crinkled in confusion. That was different. They were so similiar, it surprised him all the more when he noticed something different. "Cold still bothers me... At least I assume it does. I still 'feel' it... as much as ever."

The inner turmoil was hard to hide as he chewed on his lower lip. It was obvious he wanted to ask something, but wasn't sure if he should. Stalling for time he considered her other revelation. She had already told him she was dying. Her power was slowly killing her. And this thirst... concerned him.

"Have you spoken to anyone about this thirst? Father Zantus perhaps? I've had little use for priests... but I hear they are useful for things like this..."

"No! No priests," Morelen pleaded with panicked crystalline eyes. Her knuckles flushed a sickly purple from her tight grip on the arms of her chair, and suddenly the air around them was filled with phantom sounds.

Two voices whispering fiercely to one another, 'She's the one we need', uttered by a raspy voiced woman, was the only intelligible phrase they could hear. The caustic cackling of a raven. Wheels squeaking. A horrifying scream.

"Please..." The noises ceased as the sorceress took a deep breath and regained control. "Please, I'd really rather keep Father Zantus in the dark on my particular...issues. He's a good man but I highly doubt he'd understand.

"I've found a little haven here in Sandpoint. If the townspeople were to find out what I am..." She shook her head, horrified at what might follow such a revelation. "I trust you, Nuari. While I believe Skookumchuk and Zerye may not necessarily take issue with my situation, I trust that you can understand above all others that we cannot be blamed for how we were created. All that really matters is what we do with what we're given!"

It sounded for all the world as if Morelen was trying to convince herself of just that. It also sounded like she wasn't completely persuaded by her own words. Flailing desperately toward idealism...

The woman shut her eyes and wet her ever-parched lips. Slowly, she stretched out her mismatched hands, palms up before him on the table.

"Tell me, my friend... What do your elf eyes see?"

Then she pushed her long draping sleeves up past her elbow. Past the scars where these limbs had been attached to the torso.

"What do you see..."

Nuari was quite startled as the strange sounds filled the air and then abruptly vanished. Her reaction to the priest was a surprise too. While it was true he had spoken little to the priest... to any priests for the most part. His uncle had long kept him from their kind... and after learning the truth about what happened to his mother, A priestess herself... he had quickly adopted his uncle's attitude toward them. After all, if the god's didn't come down and rescue one of their own... what use did HE have for them...

Morelon however, had seemed to get along well with Father Zantus, and this reversal surprised him greatly. Quickly he waved his hands calmly in front of him. "No priests it is... Of course if you don't trust him, I would never... I only meant... The changes seem to be hurting you... Sometimes they can help... " He met her panicked eyes.

"What my elf eyes see is a woman who's very scared... I see.. " He looked down at the pale scars that seemed to cover her body. "I see... " The cuts were obviously deliberate, almost surgical...

"Gods... I'm not sure what I see.... " Confusion gave way to awe... and awe was quickly burning away as he felt himself getting angry. "Morelon?? This man your running from? Did he hurt you??"

It should've been an easy question but Morelen struggled with the word, 'you'. Did he cause pain to this body? To the last one? To her mind? That was really who she was, she'd come to determine. Her mind was the only thing she felt she could claim as her own. Damaged as it was. Perhaps it was time for her to start thinking of this body as hers also.

"Not... Not precisely," she finally answered, her face slightly pinched as she pondered what was probably a philosophical debate. "I believe he was trying to help me after a fashion but the cost of that 'help' was too great."

The sorceress sighed as she struggled to explain and while she was terrified that she might be revealing more than her companion would want to hear, the gates had already been opened.

"Dr. Noenn...he told me I had a wasting disease. That my body was failing." She peeked up at the elf through long, white eyelashes, nervous about what she'd see in his eyes. "So, he built me a new one. Two legs, two arms, a head, a heart...and my brain." Without taking her eyes from Nuari, she removed the thin band of fabric that ran along her hairline and traced her finger along the white scar that encircled the top of her head.

"My creator killed seven people to build a house for my mind. Then he killed my body, placing the only thing left of me within this shell." Nuari hadn't run out screaming by this point and she counted that as a good thing, daring to continue a bit farther.

"However, something went wrong with the magic and as it turns out, this body is failing too," she smiled wryly, which came across more like a grimace of pain. "That's where my powers come from Nuari. All that evil, necromantic magic...both divine and arcane as I understand, is leaking out of me. I'm simply trying to channel it toward good ends... But, I feel the tug...that pull toward darkness. I see the evil pulsing at the corners of my vision." She sat back in her seat and replaced the band. "I understand your fears, because I believe my fears are similar. A fear of losing myself. The power is changing me but I don't yet know how and I don't know yet to what.

"If I'm lucky...if I'm very, very lucky, I'll simply die when the magic is gone."

Silence reigned as Nuari struggled to understand this new revelation. He had been sure... so incredibly certain, that she was the same as he was... He was wrong. She was something else! His own mouth felt dry as feeling of nausea rolled over him. His earlier anger dissipated and was replaced by disgust. Not at his friend, but at the acts done to her... the evil that human's could do...

"I... Had no idea." He poured himself some water with a trembling hand. "I never could have imagined something... like that was possible!!" His emotions were in tumult then. Anger, shock, disgust, curiousity... he closed his eyes and tried to sort them.

"This is what you meant then... about knowledge of the man's crimes, but not knowing who would even recognize you. Why your memories, are... sporadic?"

Morelen nodded in silent affirmation. Taking Nuari's cue, she poured herself another glass of water and took a long swallow before pulling her gloves back on.

"It's good that you know... A relief actually. I just hope this hasn't soured your opinion of me."

The sorceress cracked a half-hearted smile. "I'm not the only one with secrets though... You've hinted before at a dark power within your blood but you've never told me what kind of power or how it came to be a part of you.

"It isn't my intention to push you into revealing something that you're not ready to. I understand the risks involved. I just hope that you know I'm willing to listen and...well...flesh golem that I am, I'm hardly in a place to judge anyone."

"Flesh golem... " he muttered under his breath, still in shock. "I'm sorry... I just... I didn't expect your story to be... that..." The thought of waking up and realizing what had been done... the people killed to give you life... It must have been horrible.

"I'm sorry. Thank you for sharing that with me... I can only imagine keeping that locked up inside...." He shook his head in frustration. She was right after all... She wasn't the only who had secrets...

"I didn't tell you my story, because... Well, honestly there are many reasons I didn't tell you... anyone actually... But you specifically." He took a deep breath as he decided to take that next step.

"Honestly, from what I've seen of you... I truly thought we had more in common than mere appearance. I thought your story would be more similar to my own. Your lack of memories were, in my eyes at least, a blessing. I wish I didn't know what I knew... and didn't wish to steal your ignorance.

"In fact... I came up here tonight to ask if you would like to hear my theories... To tell you what I knew about my own origins, and see if they sparked any memories of your own...."

"It is...kind of you to wish to help me remember. Perhaps one day I will and perhaps that day I would wish that I could forget again," she conceded. "You could be completely correct. Learning of a family that wouldn't recognize me... Old friends that would be horrified by what I've become. My last body was middle aged for a human... Was I married? Did I have children? All of that has been taken from me and any memories of that old life could bring me nothing but pain." Morelen raised her cold blue eyes slowly to meet the elf's warm brown ones. "But for some masochistic reason I still want to know! That old life was a part of me, whether or not I can go back to it...it was my life. At least for a while."

Waiving off that line of thought, the sorceress clasped her gloved hands in front of her, giving Nuari her rapt attention.

"Your story may not spark any memories for me but I'd still very much like to hear it. I get the impression that there has been so much pain in your past and if you'd allow, I'd like to share that burden with you. I may not live the lifespan of an elf but even a little lightening of the load...even for a little while, could help grant you the strength to carry it a bit farther."

Morelen knew something of burdens. She felt the full weight of those fourteen lives taken on her account, heaped heavily upon her shoulders. If she could do something...anything to aid this friend in his struggle with himself, even if it was simply listening, it might not just lighten his load. It might lighten hers as well...

The elf flinched realizing he was caught. He didn't want to say anything... he really didn't. It was one thing if it was going to help her... but it wouldn't. He was sure of that now. But he was caught in a trap. If he chose not to share his story... what would that say about him?!

Yet, he also recognized how vulnerable she had just made herself. To take that show of trust and return nothing... how could he do that?? He raised his glass for another drink and cringed as it slipped through his trembling fingers to shatter on the floor.

"I'm sorry... I just... I... I've never told anyone this before." He said as he closed his eyes and gripped the arms of the chair.

"My uncle is the only one who knows the truth... and even what he knows is incomplete. Taking a leap of faith he dove right into his story. He told of his uncle, the ranger who'd raised him... how his powers had manifested at an early age... how he'd been punished for using them. Finally he talked about his mother.

Nuari was no bard. The story was rambling as much as anything else, but once he started he left no breaks for questions. He knew if she stopped him, if he stopped to even breath, he'd never be able to continue again.

"The Chelaxian's," he veritably spat the word out, "Tortured her, broke her, all in the name of their devil worshiping... Whatever my father was, he was there that night... and he wasn't human, nor was he elf." He felt the heat of his anger clash with a cold chill down his spine. His whole body trembled.

"Nobody in my family has ever wielded fire or stolen the free will from others. THAT is what's in my blood... where MY power comes from... Whatever infernal taint is in me... THAT's where it comes from... and I can barely control it."

"I'm dangerous to be around..." Nuari said in a quiet voice as tears welled up in his eyes. "I've... hurt people before. I never meant to... Not before Nualia. I wanted... to hurt her. The... HATE I felt for her... to have divine... GOOD blood, and want to abandon it for demonic... I just... " he chewed on his bottom lip for a moment.

"And I nearly burned Skookumchuck in the process. Looking back, I'm not sure I'd have been able to stop... "

Shards of glass, now scattered over most of the floor in the small room, provided a fitting backdrop to the stories of shattered lives that were finally being told. Nuari was right... Sometimes knowing the truth is worse than not knowing. He'd lost his family, his community, his home but he remembered them, and Morelen didn't miss the tears of pain in his eyes at the mention of hurting others with his powers. Her stolen heart broke for her friend.

Instinctually responding to his hurt, she reached out a hand to comfort him but stopped short. No touch of hers could ever be considered soothing... An awkward pause and she continued her reach, stretching out her hand to hover just above his on the arm of his chair. The chill of her presence permeated her thin, silk gloves and cooled his skin just slightly before she pulled her wayward hand back to the body to which it belonged. It was the most comforting gesture she could offer.

"I'm so sorry..." The sorceress shook her head almost imperceptibly as the words slipped off her tongue. Nuari was the product of an evil act that effectively killed his mother and now...that same power with which she had been violated was now threatening to consume him as well! It was difficult for her to fathom. "Such a terrible burden you've been forced to carry! Is that why you left home...because you felt you were a danger to those you cared about?"

The pain in the elf's eyes was obvious and he flinched as if she had struck him. He wanted nothing as much as to run from the room. To hide in his own dark room. Secluded... Safe... But he didn't run. They had a right to know... Zeyre didn't understand the danger he posed. That was his own fault. If any harm came to his new friends, he'd never forgive himself.

Slowly he nodded. Biting he lower lip he quietly admitted what he'd never said aloud before. "I've... hurt people... Hurt them badly. I..." the rest of the admission wouldn't come, but the regret was written all over his face.

"I... I ran away. That's how I came to be in Sandpoint... then there were goblins... and People proclaiming me a hero..." His voice had taken on a fevered pitch as he rambled on. "Now... now the goblins are taken care of, Nualia's dead... I don't know what to do next... I'm... I'm not a hero.... I nearly burned Skookumchuck.. I don't want to hurt him, or you, or Zeyre... I don't want to hurt anyone!"

Noting his pain, she regretted asking that but she didn't regret knowing the truth of it. With those two surprising revelations, a devil possibly being his father and having accidentally harmed someone he cared for a great deal, many answers to her questions fell into place. The reason why he was reluctant to use his magic... Why he often kept to himself...

"You won't, Nuari... You won't hurt us," Morelen tried to assure him. "I can understand your fears but I've seen you use your powers, moreso the last few days than since the Swallowtail Festival, and perhaps it's my imagination but you seem to be growing more confident with them. I believe that if Skookumchuk had crossed your line of fire that you would've been able to stop yourself. I really do."

The sorceress continued before he was able to deny the comment.

"I know when my abilities first manifested, I had a hard time controlling them... Occasionally I still do," she sighed, alluding to the Ghost Sound incident only moments before, "but when I practice them, I learn my limits...how far I can push myself and how much of the power I can channel without losing control of it. Sometimes I even learn something that I didn't know I could do before...

"I'm not going to pretend that our situations are the same or that I know some sort of cure-all for your particular dilemma, gods know I have enough issues of my own to work out so I shouldn't be giving advice. But... In my case, practice helps."

He was quiet as he listened. It had been a big step, admitting what he'd done. Most of it anyway. For all he knew there were still people after him. Bounties... Warrants... Potentially good people who only wanted him to pay for his own crimes... Accidental or not.

What would he do on that day? He still believed going home was the equivalent of a death sentence... He'd probably run again. It seemed a growing part of his character... Still, he didn't WANT to run again... As much as felt out of place here... he liked Sandpoint...

"Practice... " He muttered low. It went against everything he had been taught. Everything he knew... "I've never... 'practiced' before. I can feel the power getting stronger... I can't seem to 'bottle' it anymore... but I can't just, Let it go either..."

Morelen nodded in understanding. That was certainly something they had in common!

"I know how it feels to be afraid of the power inside you. If we can't contain it though, and we don't try to control it, then it controls us and I just don't want to discover the ramifications...of...that..." Her voice trailed off at the end when she realized that Nuari had already lived some of those ramifications.

She had further questions about that nebulous mention of 'hurting' someone of course... How could she not! But the emotion in the elf's eyes told her plainly that it the pain was still too raw to go into more detail, as if the event hadn't happened very long ago at all. She didn't want to wrench open those particular stitches any more than she already had.

"Do you ever wonder if you were created for a purpose?" The sorceress asked carefully, lifting an awkward gaze from the suddenly fascinating flameless candle that stood on the desk between them. "Whether it be by design of the Chelaxian devil-worshippers or someone...sometthing else, do you think you might have been made to help achieve their ends?"

Sitting back in her chair, she watched her companion thoughtfully.

"Using your abilities to put down evil..." Morelen's scarred lip twitched up ever so slightly. "Wouldn't that just be a thumb in the eye to those who have done so much harm to you and your family!"

He grinned a weak smile at that. He knew she was trying to keep things a little light. The idea of 'sticking a thumb in his father's (whoever THAT may be...) eye, appealed to him... but it was hard to laugh when his 'purpose' was brought up.

"I don't know why I was made... I've long thought that it was for SOME nefarious reason... The things I do, taking of minds... the fire... It can't be for any good reason." He shook his head and sighed.

"Or maybe I'm just an accident. The grand plans and schemes ended with my mother. I don't know... but if I'm meant for something... Wouldn't training my powers only ensure I reach whatever evil purpose I'm meant for?"

"I don't see how," she answered gently but honestly. "If the Chelaxians intended on using you for some evil purpose than they would've ensured that you grew in the way they would wish you to. You may even have had a devil tutor...I hear some of the important figures in the nation use such things. I don't think Chelaxians are the types to just do something and let it loose up on the world to see what happens. Far too regimented, those folk. If they made you for a reason than they intended on keeping you and training you up themselves. Whatever their intentions, they couldn't have anticipated that your uncle would track down your mother and slaughter them all before rescuing her."

Morelen poured the remaining few drops of water into her glass and swallowed the contents in one gulp.

"The powers that come with your heritage may be from an evil source but that doesn't mean you have to follow in those footsteps. Nualia had divine goodness in her bloodline and she chose to take the opposite path. That alone shows that you have a choice in the matter and that should give you a great deal of hope!

"Perhaps I'm wrong Nuari, but it sounds like you've spent much of your life wondering what your fate will be... With your powers growing too strong to simply repress anymore, maybe it's time you took charge of your fate. Decide what it is that you really want out of life. Decide who you want to be! Set a goal and chase after it! Life is a fragile thing and far too precious to just let sit on the mantle while you watch and wonder who might come along, dust it off and pocket it for their own use.

"I know I'm filtering this through my human eyes," the sorceress smiled, "and worse yet, a human on borrowed time, but the principle still applies I think. If you don't choose your path, then you allow others to choose it for you."

He flinched a little as her words sounded a little too familiar... "Zeyre was saying something similar last night... About how magic was neither good nor evil... That I let fear keep me from my potential..." He sighed and tried to smile. "Well.. at least that was gist of her 'lesson'. Conversation with her can be... odd." Blunt would have been a more apt word. He could still hear the word 'Coward' from the first time she'd taken an interest in his abilities...

"It sounded very ... naive coming from Zeyre. She has such a... unique mindset that I can't wrap my head around." a short chuckle escaped him as he remembered the berating he received from the temperamental gnome. "It's strange to take 'right and wrong' seriously coming from someone sitting on a wild boar at the dinner table! She has a much different view of things than I do..."