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"I want to fight."

It took him six weeks to come to this point.

Everyday, he would get up and go to his father's workshop working in the bins where he disassembled old machines and pulled out all the parts, tossing the useless and keeping the ones that could be salvaged. Then after lunch, he would head over to the Talhares's shop, where he would either work under Iloni or run around getting parts and tools for he Engineers. He was good at taking orders and friendly enough that his presence wasn't a burden, but none of them knew what was going on inside him.

For two weeks he struggled with the inky blackness that clawed at his soul, trying to burn out all the goodness. His body twitched with a need for something more. Not to build, but to break and pull and tear. And inside himself he fought it, tried to beat it out of himself, but working harder. And the dark thing only laughed.

The third week two Orderites came into the shop, one a Barbarian, the other a Warrior. They were waiting for a package and as they did they began to tell stories about the battlefield. The Barbarian spoke of the fights with zeal and large hand gestures that made the other apprentices laugh and lean closer. The Warrior listened just as intently, but he didn't say much besides to correct a few details.

Once they're package arrived and the Barbarian finished with his tale, the men began to walk out. Alionse gathered up his courage and jotted forward, chasing after the men. He heard Iloni calling after him, but he ignored him, instead calling out a loud, "Sir!"

The pair turned around, surprised. The Barbarian looked amused, the Warrior disinterest. Alionse glanced between the two before focusing his attention on the Warrior.

"What is it like on the battlefield?" Alionse asked.

"Oy! Look at that, the kid is greedy for more of my fine tales," the Barbarian said with a chuckle.

Alionse shook his head, his green eyes intent on the Warrior. "No, I want to know what it's really like."

"Hey! You calling me a liar," the Barbarian demanded with a frown.

"Enough, Mikr," the warrior said, then met Alionse's eyes. He studied him for a moment as if he was searching for something inside them.

Alionse felt his inside squirming in the silence, but he held his ground, wanting, no, needing to now the answer.

Finally the warrior spoke. "Bloody."

Such a simple answer was filled with something much, much deeper. It hung in the man's words so thick Alionse could almost taste it in the air. It taste of sweat, and tears, and the sweet tang of blood.

Alionse slowly nodded. "Thank you." Then he turned and hurried back to the shop. Behind him he could hear the two men talking.

"Weird kid."

"Perhaps we all are."

"Seriously, Galen, do you always have to be so damn cryptic?"

It took three more weeks of turning over the idea, researching everything he could about fighting and the path of the warrior, before he finally reached his decision. It took another week for him to gather the courage to approach his father.

His father, who was currently twisting a screwdriver with his mechanical hand like Alionse hadn't said anything. Alionse waited, listening to the scrap of metal of his father's hand every time it twisted. It sounded like the hand needed some oil. Alionse turned and grabbed the lamp of oil just for these occasions and brought it to his father's side.

"Thanks," his father said, putting down screwdriver and unsecuring the snaps around his hand. With a hard yank, he pulled off the hand and began oiling the gears.

"So you want to fight, eh?"

Alionse hesitated. "I-I think so."

His father raised an eyebrow. "You think or you know? It's not one of those things you pussyfoot about."

Alionse pulled back his shoulder and jutted his chin out in determination. "I want to be a warrior."

His father hand stilled for just a moment, then it was back to oiling his hands. Then he put down the oil lamp and shoved the hand back into place, flipping the snaps back on, and locking it into place.

"You're a serious boy, a little too serious for someone your age if you ask me," His father said. "But I guess that partly my fault. In any case, I'm not going to assume this is just some fancy that's flitted through your head because you heard a few stories."

Alionse opened his mouth, but his father waved what he was going to say away. "Yes, I know about the battlers that came by the shop, telling all their stories a few weeks ago. I even heard you ran after them when the left. And why was that, by the way?"

Alionse met his father's eyes. "I wanted to know what it was really like. Not just the stories."

His father nodded as if he wasn't surprised. "I figured it was something like that. I assume you got your answer."

Alionse nodded.

His father rapped his metal hand against the desk, testing that it was secure and wouldn't pull off with a bit of force. "Why?"

Alionse paused. Blood. The feel of it against his fingers, the need to rip and tear into flesh, and the dark thing laughing, always laughing. He wasn't sure how to explain that to his father. And even if he could, he didn't think he wanted to, so he kept quiet.

The silence hung between them until his father let out a deep sigh. "That look. Seeing it on your face...you really are your mother's son." His father shoved up from his seat. "Fine, tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Alionse asked, confused.

"Tomorrow," his father repeated with a nod. "For now, dinner."

Alionse frowned, but didn't push. He wasn't sure what his father meant by tomorrow, but he figure that right now, at least, this was some sort of acceptance. For now, it was enough.

Until tomorrow.

Alionse was curled up on the floor reading up on how to go about taming an Olrawk when his father came in and dropped a huge trunk on the floor in front of him. Alionse looked at his father quizzically and slid his book to the. His father was grinning widely at him. It was similar to the grin he had when he took Alionse to hunt dragons. Alionse narrowed his eyes, instantly are guard.

"Don't give me that look," his father said and lowered his bulked to the floor, crossing his legs. "You've been awfully suspicious after I took you on that hunt."

Alionse gave him a look that said, Can you blame me? His father had laughed for days after the incident. He even told people at the workshop which had been greeted with hidden chuckles and reassurances that he would get then next time. As if to prove his point, his father let out another snort of laughter, before puling a key out of his pocket. He taped it against the trunk. "Do you know what this is?"

Alionse eyed the trunk and shook his head and peered closer at the trunk. It was thick with black wood and gold trimming. It was a very masculine trunk or it would have been except for the single carving of a butterfly right above the locket. The carving was beautiful and painted with pink, a stark contrast to the rest of it. Something about the sight tugged at Alionse. It felt familiar.

"This, here, is your mother's trunk. She often kept a lot of her gear. Old and new. She always had a hard time getting rid of it. She insisted she might need it some day," his father chuckled and then grew quiet. "Your mother had her quirks, but she was lovely." He shook his head and peered at the trunk with a look of fondness before sliding in the key and turning it. The trunk let off a sharp click and opened.

"Since you're set on getting out on the field, I thought you might need some supplies."

Alionse's eyes widened. "Really?"

His father laughed. "Don't think this means I approve. You would make a hell of an Engineer, but if you're set on this path I'll support you, well after you do a few things."

Alionse frowned. "What things?"

His father slapped him on the back. "A successful dragon slaying would be a nice start."

Alionse pouted. "I'll do it."

"I know you will," His father said and then began pulling things out of the trunk - a rope, a climbing kit, four vitals of water.

"Water?" he asked.

His father grinned. "Not just any Water, healing water from Vonafel and Tyluafel. The Vanafel water especially is a nice fine. The healing properties of both will get you through some tight spots in the future."

Alionse's eyes widened, his gaze landing on the bottles with new interest. His father chuckled at his look and pulled out something else. Alionse looked at it curiously. "What's that?"

"A lock pick set," his father said.

"What? Why would I need that?" He frowned. he wasn't trying to become a thief.

"It's not what you think, Alionse. Sometimes, when you're on an adventure, you need to get into a room or get out of it. It makes it easier."

Alionse looked doubtful, but nodded.

"Just trust me. Your mother was certainly no thief, but she has this in her trunk, right?"

"Right," Alionse said, feeling a bit better about it.

"Well come and look around yourself. This is part of your legacy after all," His father said.

Excited, Alionse began peering into the trunk as well. They found a few more things. A talismans and even a few taming jewels which Alionse was very excited to find. This would help him in taming the Olrawk he wanted to capture. They were almost done with the trunk when Alionse's eyes caught a glint of metal wrapped in black. He leaned forward.

Suddenly he felt his heart beating wildly. A soft whispered crawled in his mind - soft and breathy. This? What is this? His hand brushed the black silk, ready to pull it away when suddenly his father's hand was there first, snatching the object away.

"Ah, this. I think it might be a good idea that we lave that alone for now."

"What is it?" Alionse asked, and his voice came out almost breathless with the intensity of want. He couldn't take his eyes off of it.

His father frowned and stared at the object clutched in his hand. "Another legacy." He looked at Alionse and he looked worried and then shook his head. "Go ahead and gather up that supplies and put it away."

Alionse reluctantly tore his gaze away from the object and gathered up his new supplies. As he did his father left. He heard him moving around in his room, before he came back, his hands empty. "Well then, all set. We might need to get a few more things later, but I think this is a good start for you."

Alionse grinned. "Thanks Dad."

His father reached down and ruffled his head. "No problem. I expect you to hear lots of good stories about your adventures from now on."

Alionse ducked away from his father's hand, but was smiling. Adventures! He couldn't wait for it.

Alionse woke up from his sleep to the sound of whispers. His entire body hurt as he turned in his bed. He laid there for a moment, his long pink hair spread around him like a halo as he just breathed. He had been dreaming, dreaming o being trapped in that cave as the dragons dug and dug and dug, trying to get to their eggs, trying to get to him. Strangely enough, he didn't feel afraid in his dream, instead he waited with a grim determination; his body so taunt it felt like it would break. And what bothered him most was that he felt nothing, nothing by an emptiness that threatened to swallow him even before the dragons got to him.

He sucked in a breath and slowly let it out. He didn't know how long he had been home. The days had blurred together since his rescue. Today felt like the first day his mind didn't feel fogged up. Or at least it didn't feel fogged up anymore, but he couldn't be sure. He could still hear the whispers. He couldn't make out what it was saying, it was just an insistent tugging at his brain. Alionse closed his eyes and waited for the whispering to go away, but instead it grew more insistent.

"What do you want?"

This just seemed to encourage the whispering. It grew louder though Alionse still couldn't make out the words. Annoyed, he threw back the covers of his bed and sat up. The motion left him dizzy and queasiness built in his stomach, but he shoved it down. He looked down at himself. He was in his underwear and a long button up shirt, no pants. It wasn't hard to see why that was the cause. A bandage was wrapped around his left leg where the dragon had slashed him. He was pretty sure they had stitched him up. Vaguely, he wondered if that meant he would have a scar. A permanent physical reminder of the day he almost died.

The whispering grew louder. Alionse gritted his teeth and tore his gaze away form his leg. He turned on his bed and set his feet on the ground. Taking a deep breath he pushed up. His legs felt weak and for a moment he thought he might fall over, but he stood there for a while, letting himself adjust until he was sure he could carry his own weight. He took a step forward. It hurt a little, but at this point it felt more like he was sore combined with his body unused from movement due to so long in bed rest.

He took a few shaky steps and walked across the room. He moved slower than he liked, which was even more annoying with the constant whispering urging him forward. "Shut up," he gritted out. "I'm coming." He kept walking and walking until he had reached his father's room. Vaguely he wondered just where his father was. Probably ran to the workshop. He knew his dad had stayed by his side nearly constantly. It was his reassuring voice that usually tugged him out of his nightmares.

Inside his father 's room the whispering grew stronger and he could almost make out the words.

Finally, finally.

Finally what? Alionse thought as he moved around the room, searching for the source. It was coming from the closet. Alionse pushed open the closet door and looked around. He didn't see anything, but he could still hear it, louder.

Close, close.

He wasn't sure what made him press his hands against the wall, but he did, sliding it up and down, searching and then he felt it. A small catch. He pressed against it and with it a small trap door opened in the floorboards. He looked down in surprise to see his mother's trunk. A wave of excitement went through Alionse, because now he was sure he knew what was calling him - the thing that had been wrapped in the cloth. He crouched down and opened the trunk.

He reached down, bypassing all the other things that remained inside to the small bundle of cloth. As he grasped it in his hand, the cloth fell away to reveal a short sword. Alionse frowned, grasping the hilt and as soon as he did something changed. His mind was suddenly filled with vision, desire, a need to stain the blade with blood. But at the same time, the desire was both his and not his. The weapon called at the darkness inside him, amplifying what was already there and as it did the short sword began to shift, changing into something else, something to suit him.

"Alionse?"

Alionse spun around his hands moving in a blur. It was only something deeper inside him that screamed out a warning that paused the motion. He froze. Standing in front of him was his faster. His eyes wide. And Alionse was standing there with long blades at his father's throat. The blades were connected to a metal gauntlet. Alionse's eyes widened and he looked at his other hand and there was a matching pair.

"W-what's going on?" Alionse asked, bewildered.

"It looked like you found your imprinted weapon. You're a warrior now," his father said and instead of sounding proud, he simply sounded sad.

Realizing he still had a blade to his father's throat, Alionse pulled back and stared down. The whispers were swirling down his head, but now he could understand the words. Words beckoning him to kill, to spill blood. Alionse closed his eyes, shutting them out. It wasn't difficult. After all he had been shutting out that part of himself long before these weapons had appeared before him.

"It's time," his father said, "you met with Aevah Avi."