Returning Home ((Closed))

[Kura]

Sereth stepped through the familiar slash, his silk coat fluttering meekly from the breeze. When he released the weave it settled. He shook his head; it was an odd night for the weather to be so still. It seemed the world should be in tempest. His boots crunched through the snow as he approached his home, pushing open the door and taking a moment to take it all in. It has been a long time… He felt an odd duality. So much had changed, the summer heat finally breaking, his promotion to Attack Leader, and… other things. Yet still, his home remained almost exactly as he had left it, a state of familiar disarray, and he knew he’d be able to find any book he owned. Question not the chaos… He nearly winced at the thought, and started weaving gentle flows of air, attempting to clean the thin layer of dust from his belongings.

 

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“Covai, I have to leave for a bit.” Sereth stood before his superior, arms lying laxly at his sides, standing with obvious tension. He was afraid the man would say no. “I had a mentor as a child, a philosophy teacher. He… He was the one who told me I could channel. He was always so knowledgeable, and seemed to understand principles that could be of use to us. I want to track him down, he could help us. I know it.” He spoke with the conviction he felt, and the words he had rehearsed. Though in truth, he simply wanted to find his old friend. It had been far too long, and he was curious. How had he been? Still mentoring over eager students in Andor? To his surprise, the storm leader agreed. Sereth bid his friends farewell, promising to return as soon as possible, and set off for his family home. Odd, how I’ve never even thought of how close I was to home…

 

His arrival was met with mixed feelings. His mother wrapping her arms around her son, embracing him and telling him how much she’d missed him. His father a bit more subdued, curtly shaking his hand. Sereth couldn’t say he was surprised. He’d just up and left his family, taking the education that they had bought him and joining the tower. All on the whim of a man they considered mad. The fact that this same son now openly wielded the One Power… Well he hoped his father would come around. “I’d love to stay folks, but unfortunately I am on assignment. My philosophy teacher…” He paused, noticing a stiffening of both parent’s spines. “I need to track him down. I believe he was a channeler. I need to find him.” For the first time in his life he saw anger in his father’s eyes, and a cold malice was in his voice. “Get out Sereth. We won’t have anything to do with that man. Ever again.” Sereth was shocked, looking to his mother, but she didn’t repeal the statement. She always did differ to him…

 

“I.. alright. I just wanted to know where he was. I’m sorry.”

“Get out!”

 

Heart broken, he left his family home. A bit down the street, he heard footsteps and turned, instinctively reaching for the source. It was his mother. “He is gone son, and I’m sorry, but he wasn’t the man we thought he was. When you left… “ She had to take a moment to collect herself. “I heard a rumor that he was headed to Carhien.” With that she quickly hugged her son, and left, leaving him dumbfounded. Still, he opened a gate to the city.

 

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“I’ve followed you all over this continent teacher. What the hell have you become?” The man before him was ragged, wearing a cowled great cloak against the chill. The man laughed, spreading his hands out to the night air. “I am what I have always been boy. A man with The Power, and an idea. No, I believe it is you who have become something. Focus, close your eyes and tell me. It will be just like old times.” Sereth almost did it, but reminded himself of the rumors he had heard, the things he had seen. He had been away from the tower to long, but the search consumed him. How could the gentle philosophy instructor be the creature standing before him? At least he’d sent word. The nature of his search had changed, and he was hunting a killer.

 

“What have I become? While I suppose I’ve become a man with the Power, and an ideal. An ideal that it should be used to defeat the shadow, and help save this world.” His teacher snickered at the words, “So smart yet so ignorant. I’d thought that by now you’d know. This world isn’t worth saving.” Sereth gritted his teeth; he didn’t want this to happen. “You’re wrong.” At the words the first hint of anger snapped out from the man, and Sereth felt him seize Saidin. Instantly he did the same. “Question not the Chaos, boy! I am not wrong! I am never wrong! It is the failings of idiots who can’t see the truth! I’ll show you! ” The man wove fire and earth, splitting the earth and sending globes of melted rock at his former student. Sereth easily batted them aside with clubs of air. He nearly sobbed, taking this as the conformation of what he’d feared. The man had lost himself to the taint, that brilliant mind completely consumed by the Dark One. He should have known, after seeing those corpses. Burned to cinder, each one a different symbol carved into the ash. Sereth had recognized them from his days in this man’s tutelage.

 

Again the man came at him, weaving fire and earth with abandon, cutting the ground and trying to burn Sereth. He countered with thick slicing weaves, and advanced on the man. He had never had the grace with the power that those like Covai or Arath possessed, but he had experience with dueling other channelers. He launched a brutal counter assault, sending corkscrews of air laced with fire, creating lances to impale and burn the man he’d admired. The man dodged, again and again, sending back his flimsy fire weaves. Eventually Sereth cornered him, and his teacher fell, exhausted. Sereth summoned his full strength, slamming a shield onto the man and cutting him off from the source. “I came here to find a man worth taking to the tower. A man to teach thought to the men there, give them a reason to live for tomorrow. To think beyond the last battle, and what our return as men who wield the power would mean. Instead… I find you.” His hand fell to his sword. He’d been taught to use it so well over his time at the tower. “You are a murderous wretch Teacher, a man without conscious or purpose. No, you are so much worse…” He remembered the last corpse… So small, how had he not burned the teddy with the weave? “You are a slayer of children and for that,” Sereth drew his sword, raising it high; “you will die!” The blade fell, the moonlight shimmering off the piece of forged steel. Red misted the pure snow.

 

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Sereth Arian stood in his room, still holding a dripping blade. He took a deep breath, and applied the same weave he’d used to clean his house on the sword. He put the droplets of blood outside with the dust, before sheathing the weapon. He methodically took off his boots, and headed to his sleeping quarters. It had been to long since he had slept in his own bed, though he doubted he’d sleep well now. At least unassisted. I’ll have to report in tomorrow. The thought galvanized him. He’d have to be alert to stand before the Storm Council, and he rummaged until he found a small packet of herbs. With Saidin it was easy to boil the water and make a sleeping draught. His last thought before going to sleep was simple, I’m home.