Chapter Text
The group healed up as best they could, Elorin badgering them to hurry all the while. When done, they began exploring the new floor they had found themselves on, following the distant sounds of Abdirak's screams. The longer they took, the worse Elorin's anger flared. As long as Abdirak screamed, he was alive, yet that brought little solace. The more he suffered, the more certain Elorin was that he could and would kill everyone who came between him and the priest. 'The Friendly Drow,' as the others like to call him, was slipping further and further away from his soul.
They rounded a corner, and the the screams were suddenly clearer. Closer. There was a door at the end of the corridor.
"He's through there," Elorin breathed. His arms trembled, not with trepidation but with magic. Its increasing strength and unruliness felt as though it was reaching a terrifying crescendo, welling inside of him, volatile as the bomb in Gale's chest. What if he couldn't control it anymore?
"Yes, so let's keep our eyes open for traps, hmm?" Astarion said, placing two fingers gently on Elorin's shoulders. Elorin hadn't even realised he had kept walking forward into the mouth of the long, thin corridor. Dark and perfect for traps, too cramped to escape should one be triggered.
Elorin shot the vampire an irritated glare, even though he had been set to run off down the hall and burst through the door in a blaze of fire. He tempered himself, moving carefully, keeping his eyes open for the hallmarks of his family's signature traps. By the time they were at the end, Elorin had stuffed his bag with several vials of poison gas, flesh eating acid, and alchemists fire that they found, ready to be unleashed upon an unsuspecting passerby.
As Elorin stepped up to that ominous final door at long last, the screams stopped abruptly. The skin on the back of his neck crawled. They knew. They must have, somehow. Both of his older brothers were dead. It was a surreal feeling. He took a shaking breath, placed his hand upon the door, and opened it.
The room had been shrouded in total darkness, the light of their torches spilling into the room as the door opened. It was a large and mostly empty dungeon, made of grey brick and dull metal. The walls on either side had wood benches and racks with torture implements, glinting orange in the flame light. In the middle of the far wall was an almost horizontal rack. A pale human was strapped to it, horrifically bloodied and naked. Abdirak. Elorin's stomach lurched. They had kept him in the darkness.
Stood beside him was a drow man, a sneer on his face and a dagger to Abdirak's throat.
Abdirak's eyes moved to the drow, the silver of them gleaming in the light of their torches. Elorin whispered a word, and the room lit gently as dancing orbs of white light danced upon the air. Abdirak looked wretched. Exhausted, sunken. Hollow. Elorin's heart broke. For all that Abdirak was an impressive and magnificent man, he was still only human. He had to be protected.
"Move again and he's dead," the drow snarled. Elorin didn't recognise him. Some lackey.
Elorin couldn't take his eyes from Abdirak, guilt and worry crashing through him. And then the tiniest little smile formed on the human's lips.
"Ah," Abdirak said, voice hoarse. "I believe that is my cue."
The drow torturer glanced to him irately and, with the speed of lightning, one of Abdirak's hands shot from its shackle. There was something in his hand, glinting briefly in the light before it was plunged deeply into the drow's neck. Red spurted across the room, the drow gurgling as he clutched his throat and fell back against the wall, sliding downwards to sit dead in a puddle of his own blood.
Abdirak sighed, letting his arm and shoulder fall back against the rack.
"Gods, Abdirak-" Elorin uttered, taking a step, only to be halted as magic sparked in the centre of the room.
A sharp peal of blue light burst into the air searing Elorin's eyes, drawing a slow forming circle with spokes around a single point. A dimension door, crackling loudly as it traced its path upon the air. Another started to form. Then a third…
"Oh this looks good," Astarion said.
Elorin's ears flattened completely, heart thundering. "It's her," he whispered, crimson eyes as wide as plates. "She's coming."
The portals opened, and through stepped a cadre of drow. Familiar faces. Worrying faces. Powerful clerics, court wizards, warriors, assassins. They all stood between Elorin and Abdirak. The final portal lingered. A figure stepped through. This was it. The final reckoning.
Reverend Mother Phyrriia J'yargzynn stepped through the portal, chin high, eyes fierce. She was one of the taller of the drow, clad in black mail intricately decorated with spiders and the emblem of Lolth herself. Her hair was tied back and up in a style decorative yet kept it from her face. She had eyes of pale pink, glaring at Elorin. Abdirak was hidden behind the wall of adversaries.
Elorin had imagined this moment for years. And for years, the fainest whisper of it would drop him into a cold sweat, shaking and trembling, incapacitated with terror. It was finally here. His most awful of nightmares made manifest.
And he felt nothing but fury. His wide eyes narrowed to slits, teeth bared as his lips peeled back.
A nasty smile spread onto Elorin's mother's face. She said a name none of his companions would recognise. A name he had not heard nor even thought of in decades. A stranger's name.
"Insolent as ever, forcing me come down here. I was not expecting you to bring your little band of mercenaries," she said, gravelly voice cold and smug. "You must be paying them very w-"
Elorin threw a hand forward, the action lingering on in a stretched moment. Fire ignited in his palm and as the fingers of his fist unfurled, the flames billowed to follow them, rolling along Elorin's hand, up his fingers.
Behind him, Gale gasped. "Everyone down!"
The fire left Elorin's hand and launched right at his mother. This was no small controlled bolt, targeted and precise. This was a large, pulsating orb and it flew across the room at speed. The assembled drows' eyes widened but they had nowhere to go in the room that the flames would not reach.
"Shit!" Karlach yelled, grabbing Astarion and Lae'zel by the waists and diving back through the doorway. Shadowheart cursed and held up her shield in front of herself, Gale, and Wyll.
The orb hit Phyrriia square in the chest, and then exploded in a ferocious burst of light and heat. Fire erupted outwards in all directions, a huge orange flare of power. Even as Elorin's eyes burned, he marvelled at its beauty. It was energy, creation, born from his blood. The product of him, inherited from his father. It had nothing to do with her. This was all his.
Phyrriia screamed in pain and anger as flame engulfed her, as did those by her sides as the fire spread. Elorin focused on it, felt it like it was an extension of him, felt himself and his hands inside the flames. They expanded out, filling the room completely, and as they reached Abdirak—naked and helpless—he guided it, moulding it around the human like a stream of water directed by his hands. It flowed across Abdirak, encasing him yet leaving him untouched, protected as though he were a moth cupped within Elorin's gentle hands. Even as the flames engulfed Elorin himself, his concentration was unwavering. The world would burn before a single flame licked the human's flesh.
Once the flame passed over Abdirak, time felt normal again. His skin tingled from the heat, but all the other drow clutched burns and slapped at their clothes where they had caught fire. As they were recovering, Karlach and Lae'zel thundered back into the room, one on either side of Elorin.
"Who's dying?" Karlach asked, teeth bared as she hoisted up her enormous axe.
Elorin's eyes met Phyrriia's. They were wide, brimming with outrage, with shock. Her own spawn had dared attack her and not only that - he had interrupted her. The disrespect.
Elorin snarled, almost feral. "Everyone."
The ladies needed no further encouragement, and they charged into the room. Metal clanged as the chaos began, bodies lunging to action. Shadowheart was next in and Elorin grabbed her arm.
"Abdirak-" he began, yelling over the noise.
"On it," she said, gold magic dancing around her hands as she cast a sanctuary over him.
With Abdirak safe, there was nothing left to do but wreak havoc. Blades and weapons and fire flew. Battle cries and hissing spells filled the air. Elorin was powered by a lifetime of fear and anger and helplessness being funnelled into single minded violence. Once the battle truly started, he was barely even aware of where he was, who he was. All there was were those who had wronged him, his friends, the slaves of House J'yargzynn, the commoners, each other, all of it. So much pain and suffering and hate in one estate. So many lives twisted and lost. All of it pointless. All of it for Phyrriia's hopeless desire to elevate her and the House through the ranks of Menzoberranzan. And for what?
Amongst the mayhem, Elorin met his mother's eyes again right as she sent Gale convulsing to the ground with a slap of necrotic magic. Elorin saw red, and all of the chaos around him seemed to melt away. She had to die. Of all of them, she was the glue, the vile bindings that held that awful House together. Without her, it would crumble at the foundations, and take his aunts decades to rebuild. Phyrriia's eyes narrowed. There was nothing worse than admitting that he knew what she was thinking. She was thinking the exact same thing as him. Because for all that he despised her, for all that he was the antithesis of everything she wanted him to be, he was her child. They were alike in far more ways than he ever cared to admit.
And that was why he had to be the one to kill her.
They rushed each other: her bathed in steel and golden light; Elorin in flames and lightning, sparking around him. Their clash was explosive, an eruption of power flashing like a storm and sending bystanders stumbling away with startled yells. The battle around them raged, blood and weapons flying, injuries and bodies piling up. Elorin was just barely aware of Gale being backed into a corner, of the way Lae'zel listed to the side as she fought, of how blood flowed from Wyll's brow. This had to end soon.
Phyrriia barked a spell, and around Elorin formed an awful, shimmering dome. The figure of his mother became just slightly distorted, and an awful pressure hit his ears. All sound was gone. A silence encased him that was so empty that it crushed around him like the water of the Iron Throne, threatening to drown him. Elorin instantly became breathless and tried to cry out, only for no sound to come. He was choked, gagged. Just like when he was a child. Phrriia took the moment of his panic to grin, smug and cruel. A flush of fear and powerlessness gripped Elorin by the throat.
He felt the jagged gag shoved into his mouth, pain erupting as metal prongs pierced the flesh inside. The leather strap was fastened roughly around his head, the lock clicking closed. He was useless without his magic, and without a voice he had no magic. His mouth was full of the taste of iron, seeping around the device and down over his chin in hot streams.
He was five years old. He was ten years old. He was twenty, he was thirty five, he was- over and over, so many memories all the same, the same cruel barbs, the same helplessness, the same theft of his voice, and the same crushing weight of weakness, the same anticipation of the cruelty to come. Over and over and over again.
"Never forget that you are nothing without me," his mother growled, leaning over him, fist raised high, "and you always will be."
Elorin grabbed at his own neck, uselessly and silently crying out, and his panicked eyes travelled beyond his mother. Abdirak was shivering on the rack, still trying to free his other arm, his flesh a ruin of red and purple. Elorin could not be helpless. It simply wasn't an option. As had been his driving force since this debacle began, he took that fear and anguish and channelled it into fury, the frantic buzz in his chest being rerouted to the veins of his arms, burning with power. What need had he of his voice? The magic was already in his blood. It was in him. And it came from his father. Not from her.
Elorin's hands ignited and Phyrriia's face dropped, the shock buoying his resolve. She wasn't infallible. She wasn't all knowing. And most importantly, she wasn't unbeatable.
Elorin swept his arms up, moulding the fire into a sharp bolt before launching it at his mother. In her shock, she was an easy target, and her concentration on the silence bubble shattered as she was struck hard in the shoulder, staggering a few steps. Sound came crashing back in an instant, Elorin's ears filling with screams and grunts, the ring of metal and the thumps of battle.
Phyrriia growled, her mace and magic lunging at him, Elorin countering her spells and dodging her blows on deft feet. So many times as a child she had beaten him bloody in the name of training and now he knew her steps. She quickly tired of the dance, and her attention snapped back to Abdirak. He had managed to free himself from the rack, and just barely dragged himself into a corner, too weak to do anything else.
The fight lingered on too long though, and the protective glow of Shadowheart's magic that surrounded Abdirak faltered at last, sputtering out like a death rattle. Phyrriia's eyes filled with a wicked glint. She had been waiting for this.
Blood ran through Elorin's vision. He stepped quickly, putting himself between her and Abdirak. Across the room, it seemed the battle had turned in their favour, with more drow bodies on the floor than on their feet, and the adventurers were swiftly overpowering them.
But still, she stood and her eyes fell upon the Loviatan with violence. She was fast, too fast, and a spell shot from her lips and clamped Elorin's body tightly in place. Every muscle was utterly immobilised. He was trapped. Helpless. A Hold Person spell, another of her particularly cruel torments. Gods, anything to make him feel like a terrified little child again. She took a step towards Abdirak.
With a wicked crack, Elorin's jaw parted. "No."
The magic shattered around him like glass, and Elorin's body jerked forward as the spell was obliterated under his will. He wasn't a child anymore, and she would not hurt him. Gods, he had never seen Abdirak look so weak. So hurt. She would never hurt him again.
Phyrriia looked back to him, hair whipping past her face as she spun, shock and fury filling her eyes.
Elorin's hands and arms burst into flames and he screamed so fiercely he thought his lungs might explode. The fear was in his chest, the same fear he felt whenever she had advanced on him all those years ago, yet now it wasn't fear for him. It was for Abdirak. For his friends. He would protect them. He would end this once and for all.
Sudden, sharp pain seared through his back. Elorin's screams warped from desperation and anger to sheer agony. He felt like he was being torn apart, and with a grotesque wet rip the immense pressure he had felt building inside him for tendays was released all at once in a flare of torment. He felt suddenly so free. The pain was cleansing, just as Abdirak always said it was. His shoulders were heavy, his head light. He could feel blood flowing down his back and he didn't know why. But he knew that he was strong. Power utterly thundered through his veins, no longer frightening and unknowable. His arms and hands shook. His teeth chattered with the sheer force of magic within him. He was the magic and the magic was him.
Elorin head canted to the side as he regarded his mother, eyes and smile grotesquely wide. His mother stared at him with her mouth agape. He didn't know what had caused her such horrendous shock, but he didn't care. He did not notice how his companions also stared - how their eyes bulged and mouths dropped. All he knew was that this would be the last day the world would be cursed with the presence of Phyrriia J'yargzynn.
"Abomination," she snarled, the shock being replaced with anger. "You could have had everything. The things we could have done! You were to be my greatest creation. Now you shall be nothing more than another of Lloth's toys."
Elorin sucked in heavy breaths through clenched teeth. The pain was excruciating and his balance was inexplicably terrible. He fought to stand upright but still he felt so strong. “I was never yours.”
She ran forward and struck at him. He shielded her blow with his arm, screaming as she shattered the bone and sent him back a step, but his other hand was full of burning fire, and he pressed it into her face as she came close. She shrieked as her flesh sizzled. Just like his wrist had, all those years ago.
"I am my father's son!"
His hands turned red as Phyrriia recovered herself, half of her face burned and blistering. Her half-melted lips bared more teeth than they should have, fury as ripe as that of a wild animal, but she recognised the spell in Elorin's hands. Her jaw slackened, eyes widening just a touch. For the first time in Elorin's life, he saw a glimmer of fear in her eyes.
A beam of red shot forward from his hands straight into her chest, and she unleashed a terrified howl. No anger, as he was so used to hearing from her, not exasperation. Fear. Pain. He hated how satisfying it was. He hated how it made him just like her. He couldn't stop himself though. He needed her gone.
For the last time, he gazed upon his mother, his tormentor. Before his very eyes, she crumbled, like the over burned ember gently nudged and falling to pieces. The great Reverend Mother Phyrriia J'yargzynn turned to dust before his eyes.
After she was nothing more than a pile, still the magic poured from him, boring into the stone beneath her ashes. She had to be gone, she had to be gone. She could never hurt anyone again. She had to be gone.
"Elorin." The voice was calm but stern. Firm. Commanding and comforting. Abdirak. He was alive and she was gone.
She was gone.
Elorin gasped, choking out a sob and letting the magic in his hands die. He suddenly realised how heavy he was, especially his back. Really his back. It was as though he wore a backpack of rocks. He was suddenly so so tired, hit with an exhaustion so deep that his bones ached. Elorin couldn't fight it anymore, and he fell slowly backwards.
His back erupted in pain as it hit the ground, but it could not rouse him from his tiredness. His eyelids drooped. A pale figure appeared over him, an upside down face.
"Abdirak," Elorin breathed. He tried to raise his hand up to touch the human's face, but he could barely even lift his wrist off the stone. "Are you-" Gods, talking was exhausting. "I am so sorry."
Abdirak collapsed next to him, so that their faces were very close, peering at one another as they lay upon the cold, bloody stone. "I am with you."
"Dos ph'ussta seke'olath, ussta oloth wun l'ssussun," Elorin uttered, his throat raw.
A smile tugged at Abdirak's thin lips. "Elorin?"
"You are my shade," he whispered. "My darkness in the light."
Elorin felt something strange, a gentle touch running along his skin, sending shivers down his spine, along his shoulders, all through his… He frowned. Through where? The gentle touch wasn't on his back or shoulder or arm. He didn't know where it was. Abdirak saw the confusion on his face and angled his head, clearing Elorin's view a little. His breath caught; his body went cold. On the ground next to him was a bed of black. No, not black. Dark, dark grey. Just like his skin.
It was a wing.
There was a wing beside him, the membrane the same hue as his flesh, the forearm the same brassy scales as upon his face. Abdirak's fingers were resting on it, tracing gentle circles. The touch. An unidentifiable place now seen. A new place. Water welled in Elorin's eyes.
"How?" he breathed.
Their moment was interrupted by the others hurrying over to them. Gale was in his trousers and undershirt, and he draped his robes over Abdirak's naked body. Shadowheart knelt carefully by Elorin's side, her eyes wide as she looked at his new wings.
"Another secret?" she said, tone unreadable.
"I don't think so," Gale interjected. "Not this time. Not considering all the queries I've been fielding for this pair." He leaned over Elorin. "How do you feel?"
"Exhausted," Elorin breathed. He took a moment to think on it. "Complete. This awful pressure that I've been feeling building in myself is just… gone. The unruly magic in my veins feels suddenly… sated."
"Well, I did hypothesise that you were simply maturing," Gale said. He then gestured to the wings. "Perhaps this is mature."
"How is Abdirak?" Elorin breathed. He was so heavy.
"I am well, dear one," Abdirak said, though he was out of vision now.
"You know," Shadowheart said, "I think that's the least convincingly you've ever said that."
"Agreed," Elorin added.
The group fell quiet as Shadowheart worked, but she was mostly working with bandages. The battle had been a vicious one, and everyone looked worse for wear. Elorin had been triaged. He might have lost a lot of blood and taken many blows, but others had worse injuries so was left to lay on the stone floor. As time passed he felt perhaps some of his strength was returning, and he tried to sit up, but the weight on his back was so heavy and he only had one good arm. He could move his wings a little, twitching and flexing them, but they were so weak, like the legs of a newborn rothé. He sighed, hoping he might gather the energy to put some real effort into an attempt at righting himself. Before that could happen, Wyll and Karlach were leaning over him.
"Now that is fucking cool," Karlach said.
"It might have been if it meant I could get up off the ground," Elorin shot back.
"Come here," she said with a laugh, getting her hands under his shoulder as Wyll did the same on his other side.
Together, they hauled him upright, his wings pulling along the stone floor as he remained unable to lift them, laying limp at his sides. He unleashed a slight hiss as his half-healed arm moved. Elorin took a couple of breaths to gather himself, then briefly tried to lift his wings. They barely twitched up before flopping down again.
"You'll get the hang of it!" Karlach was uncharacteristically gentle as she patted him on the shoulder, for which he was grateful.
"I hope you weren't attached to those robes," Wyll said, looking over Elorin's shoulder to peer at his back. Elorin sighed.
Gale pottered over to them. He had at some point gotten his robes back. Elorin glanced around. Abdirak was being tended to by Shadowheart, wearing some old worn clothing that looked to have belonged to whoever had lived in the lighthouse before it was abandoned. He was upright and talking somewhat normally at least.
"Now," Gale began, "as I've mentioned there is not all too much documented about those with your particular ancestry, but I did take it upon myself to do some research into the matter-"
"You had a book on this and did not tell me?" Elorin asked.
"I swear, I have kept nothing from you that I had in my possession. I did reach out to our good friend Rolan, who has at his disposal a rather grand magical library. He found a book that focused mostly on full blooded dragons, but did make brief mention of the product of liaisons, such as yourself."
"When did Rolan get this to you? And what did it say?" Elorin had leaned forward to stop the weight on his back from pulling him down again.
"That in very rare cases, sorcerers could grow powerful enough to spawn magical wings upon their back and dismiss them again at will," Gale said, spreading his arms grandly, excited to share his knowledge. "Though…" He grimaced. "The passage did make the wings sound a little less corporeal in nature. These really look like a part of you rather than a magical conjuration. Not to mention all the, um, blood."
"They feel like it too," Elorin said. "Real, I mean."
"Well, that doesn't mean that the book was wrong about being able to dismiss them! You just might need to regain your strength a little. It has been a rather taxing day."
"I cannot get up," Elorin said, voice bordering on a whine.
"I doubt we'll be making any distance today," Wyll said. "Everyone is barely being held together. The best thing to do would be find a room without any bodies and set up camp here at the lighthouse."
Elorin's eyes moved over to Abdirak. He looked pale and tired. "Above ground," he said, eyes moving back to Wyll. "Somewhere with a window."
Wyll frowned but then his eyes flicked over to Abdirak and back. "Upstairs," he agreed with a nod. He stood up from his haunches with a groan, clearly stiff and aching. "I'll go and scout out a room. One way or another, we'll get you up there."
"Great," Elorin said with a grimace, ears flattening.
As Wyll left and Karlach and Gale went to help Lae'zel, Shadowheart helped Abdirak over to Elorin's side, where he sat. He was looking a little brighter, but there was a haunted shadow in his eyes.
"Abdirak," Elorin said, voice breaking. "This is all my fault. I am so sorry."
Abdirak shook his head. "You are as much a victim as I. More, I dare say. Even if we had known what was hunting us, I am not sure it would have made a difference."
"You are very kind to say so," Elorin replied, "but I should have told you. I should have told everyone. She hurt you. Really hurt you, I mean."
A smile tugged at the corner of Abdirak's mouth. "Many people have hurt me. Your mother was a particularly skilled host, but you must have faith in my constitution."
"I do," Elorin said. "I know that if anyone could weather her cruelty, it would be you." His voice broke as he added: "But you shouldn't have had to."
Abdirak smiled at him, and lifted a hand to tuck Elorin's hair behind his ear. The drow had to suppress a shudder at the touch. "How is your back?"
Elorin took a moment to respond, letting the emotions that threatened to bubble over a moment to settle. "Better, thank you. It has healed unusually fast, strange even with the potions. Honestly, my arm feels worse."
Abdirak's eyes moved over his wings, the fresh brass running along their tops glistening brightly in the torchlight. "They are magnificent."
Elorin blushed, his ears perking up slightly. "Thank you. They would be more so if they were not such a hindrance, I am sure."
"Give them time. You are strong, and they shall be too," Abdirak said. Elorin smiled, lost in his eyes for a long moment until Abdirak canted his head lightly to the side with a small laugh. "What is it, dear one?"
Elorin's lips spread further, bearing his teeth in a bashful smile. "I-" He stopped and sighed. The time for lies was over, he had told himself before they left Baldur's Gate. “My people do not really have a word for it, but in draconic they would say si itov wux.”
“Oh?" Abdirak said. "And what does that mean?”
Elorin's throat tightened. Alright. Maybe one little lie. “Just that... I am very glad you are okay.”
Abdirak laughed. “You drow are strange creatures.”
Elorin joined him in laughing gently, as exhausting as it was. "I cannot argue with that."
Abdirak put his hands on the ground and groaned as he pushed himself to his feet. He then put his hands down to Elorin. "Let us be strong together."
Elorin reached up, and together they got Elorin up to his feet, the heavy weight on his back trying to pull him down again. His bad arm flared with pain but he gripped Abdirak's forearms and used all the strength he had to try and move his wings, to try and lift them up from the cold, rough stone. It worked. He got them both a few inches clear of the stone before he exhaled the breath he had been holding and they flopped back to the ground. He was pulled back a little but Abdirak strengthened his arms and kept him upright.
"You see? Earlier you could barely twitch them."
Elorin peered up at him with a smile. Abdirak was right. Already they were growing stronger. He chuckled in relief. "Well that is something," he said. "I do hope Gale is correct though. I am not particularly subtle traversing the streets of Baldur's Gate as it is."
"Trust yourself," Abdirak said. "Look inside and feel what is right. I do not believe that what you need to know can be learned from any book."
Their eyes met, and Elorin knew that he was right. He had to look inside. He had to believe in himself. He had spent so long in terror of his mother. Spent all day fighting her machinations, finally putting her to an end, freeing the world of her horrors. Phyrriia had had her time. It was time to remember his father.
Halos of brass around his eyes. A smile that shone more brightly that any flame. He was the fire, wreathed in it. He was kindness. He was power. Elorin's scales came from him, his magic, his heart. His will and fortitude may have come from his mother, but the things that made Elorin himself all came from his father. Elorin pictured himself stood with his father, holding his hand. He could do this.
Elorin closed his eyes and felt the wings on his back. They were a part of him, as much as his hands or feet were. He could understand them, if only he listened to them. So he listened. He felt the forearms flex, bent the elbow carefully. They were part of him. He knew what to do.
The weight disappeared from his back in a single instant and he was catapulted forward into Abdirak's chest. The priest grunted in surprise and the pair went sprawling to the ground.
"Gods, Abdirak, I am sorry!" he said, ignoring the pain in his arm as he scrambled off the priest, but Abdirak was laughing.
"You see? I knew that you had it within you."
Elorin chuckled, but then his smile fell a little, eyes falling to look at nothing as he considered the strange way his back felt - all of him felt.
"What is it, Elorin?" Abdirak said, concern creeping into his voice.
"Oh it is… silly. I have had wings less than an single hour and done nothing but complain about them, yet… now that they are gone…"
"You feel incomplete."
A smile tugged at the corner of Elorin's mouth. He understood. "Yes."
"You can summon them at will?"
"I think so," Elorin said. "After I have rested."
"Good," Abdirak said, placing a hand in the centre of Elorin's chest. "Then you are never without them." He smiled warmly at Elorin. "And whenever convenient, you may have them."
"You are right," Elorin said. "And I can gain their strength in a slightly more controlled manner," he added with a chuckle. "Now that I can stand though, let us go upstairs. There should still be a few hours of daylight left. Let us get the sun on your face."
Abdirak's smile cracked slightly, and water crept into his eyes in an instant. He nodded, and was breathless as he whispered: "Please."
They helped one another to their feet again, and Elorin took some of Abdirak's weight carefully as they made their way through the dungeon's halls. Both of their bodies were exhausted and weary, but together they slowly made their way away from his mother's vile hideout, and on towards their freedom.
The words Elorin had uttered to Abdirak played over and over in his mind as they walked, as he felt the priest's weight and warmth against him.
Si itov wux, he had said.
I love you.