The child, the dark scion, the wicked, impish lad, knew of fun, of exuberance, of carefree whimsy; not the cruel, bitter, rancorous barbs of havoc, of despair, of twisted, malicious entrails and forgotten bliss. He was lucky, blessed, and fortunate to have been brought into the world with a wonderful, loving family: one who cherished his existence, who kindled his knowledge, who fed his mighty little heart with all of the streamlined strength a boy could possess. He realized what it was like to be protected, preserved, treasured, and couldn’t begin to think of how others stood along this earth. Didn’t they all have a mighty, proud father, who could maul, mutilate, and desecrate his enemies? Didn’t they all have a wise, sagacious mother, who could mend a bruised ego, who could spin stories and webs of mistakes learned, of triumph over evil? Didn’t they all have siblings who demanded, who scolded, who pushed and expected the lands, the empires, to cater to their whims, who was eager to watch sovereignties unfold, uncurl, before them? Didn’t they all have a place to belong to – either a land of ice, a kingdom of meadows, valleys, and ocean breezes? Mountainsides, lacquered and relished in rampant winds, in polished snow? Caverns, deep and foreboding, menacing and awe-inspiring?

He didn’t know his friend didn’t grasp or possess many of these things. Lavished in a kind, innocent ignorance, he didn’t know the world could harbor and harpoon so many babes within the few weeks, months, of their birth, to void and scrape away their juvenile potential in one fell swoop – leave them rotting, ruined, withering into the tempest of defeat. Instead, he seized his strength, his fortitude, from the idle sway of his parents, tenderly plucking at the bestowals granted to him. Being akin to the prince and the pauper mattered very little to him: Adelric was a playmate, his first chosen and noteworthy companion. They simmered on the edges of the fields, they battled in the current of waving grass, they embarked in silly, nonsensical venues with no forethought, no hate, no malice, and only the ripened chords of laughter; he had naught to be melancholy over. He took hold of each blessing, each rippling chords of benefactors’ coins, and sought to embellish, heighten, their worth, their value, their mettle. Their play was a mission, a calculation, towards the whimsical machinations of a child: prospered in merriment, fueled by ebullience and contentment.

And even as Adelric faltered, stumbling over bothersome roots, Erebos thought to sneer at the wooden protrusions, grant his disappointment at their intrusion into their game. His devilish stare encountered a brief incantation of concern, much like his mother’s gaze, fixated upon a new blemish or his father’s damned silence, but the other child is set to rights – and like that, the game is back on. He had no time to further examine the thought of anxiety or apprehension for the fellow beast (if he’d been hurt, what could have the little scion done; another hour of speculation was necessary), because the layers he’d carefully provided, the artful orchestration of entertainment and all of its wonderful diversions had come back to haunt him in a contorting gambit. Adelric’s maw feasted upon his blue hide, and he’s designated back to the monster, the heathen, the chasing predator of the hour. He managed a brooding growl to exalt through his throat, thought to fashion himself into some carnivore of the thicket, brandished and emboldened by the chase, by the hunt. Not yet a warrior, just a seed, just a sprout, his imagination ran wild by the speculation of an untamed beast, savoring the puncture of his enemy. With untamed rapture, he dove after the spotted colt as they drifted away from the tree in tandem. In an instant, however, they’re absorbed into the pervading mist, into the ivory abyss, and his strides cease, his body halts, his predacious scheme evaporated with the crumbling venue. He called out through the sudden fog, into the heavenly warren, into the God breaths, hoping his companion has not been forced into ghostly, withering dungeons too. “Where’d you go?”