Oda was sitting at the foot of Shaw’s bed; she was staring at the sleeping boy. He seemed so weak now, barely moving or waking the past few days. The new priest said he was on the road to recovery, but she didn’t trust him or his goddess to help her son. Why appear now? Where were her miracles when her mother was wasting away or when her brother was pierced by an Eroan arrow and left all her alone? Now her son is sick again and this time it’s worse, she can feel it.

What is she to do? She’s nothing but a wife of a Baron and they were a dime a dozen this far south. No herbs or medicines can heal this injury the priest told her; Shaw’s mind is in disarray from something. He was fine as a baby, no signs of deformity in body or in mind. The cause was never determined, so all they could do was wait. Maybe a blessing from the goddess herself would cure him, but Oda was not going to let some upstart bless her son.

===============================================================================================

Kolost slowly opened his eyes and regretted it immediately, the room was flooded with light. If not for the bed and wardrobe the light emulated his prison very well. Letting his eyes adjust before moving tried recalling if anything significant had happened. The mother wasn’t in the room now, but he could feel her sitting on the bed most days, a pang of guilt shook Kolost and he hesitated before getting out of bed. The first week or two would be the hardest Siddil told him as she would be watching him every minute of the day.

Standing on the cold stone was uncomfortable so he looked around for some shoes and found nothing but a thick layer of dust under the bed. The wardrobe only had no clothes just some bedding and curtains, why was son of a noble sleeping in a glorified storage room? He sat back on the bed before he started sneezing and called for out for Siddil, he wasn’t going outside alone.

“Siddil you awake?”

…

“Why do you even need sleep?”

…

“Well can’t say I didn’t try,”

Kolost relaxed and started to meditate, during his lessons he found out that Siddil ‘walled’ off a part of their ego just for himself. Kolost thought this was incredibly unfair he didn’t get his own domain but a few comments about a blood mage not having a body ended that conversation. And the fact that Kolost had no idea on how to shield his mind made it an impossibility anyway. He found the barrier in their mind and did the one thing that was bound to rouse Siddil from his torpor. He kicked it. The ‘attack’ posed no threat to the barrier, but it would do the job.

“WHAT the hells are you doing?” Siddil shouted in surprise.

“Waking you up. The sun’s up and were going to meet the family. I need my interpreter to be awake.” Kolost responded in a very calm manner, almost no glee leaking through his thoughts.

Siddil paused for a second, realising he was a little late. Then spoke in a more civil manner.

“And no one taught you to knock before you barge into a room? Unbelievable.” he groaned “We are ready to go then I assume. The parent’s room is to the left, the double doors at the end of the hallway.”

Kolost got off the bed cringed at the cold stone floor and walked up to the door. He knew nothing about the world on the other side of the door, maybe only a new tragedy awaited him. Another rendition of his life just with a slightly different flavour this time. But his feet were getting cold so he opened the door and peered outside.

On the right the corridor had a few doors ending in a junction, luckily he didn’t see anyone so he stepped outside onto an old carpet, which he was thankful for. As he walked the torch illuminated hallway he heard nothing, no movement of servants or shuffling behind an of the other doors. The silence made Kolost a little weary as he stopped before the door.

He again reached upwards for the door handle, opened the door just a crack and slipped inside. The room was larger than he imagined, with two small glass windows either side of the double bed and a big wardrobe right of the door. The carpet was only worn on one half of the room – near the dresser. The rest was quite new and didn’t look lived in, clean but new.

“Left side, hope fully the father isn’t home. That would make this quite difficult.”

Kolost obeyed and walked pat the dresser adorned with a few pieces of jewellery and a modest discarded dress which he assumed was from yesterday. He turned to face ‘his’ mother, an older woman with noticeable bags under her eyes. Probably from worry, her hair wasn’t fading so the recent stress wasn’t a constant. The other side of the bed was empty, but the bedding was ruffled so the father must have just gotten up early.

“What now do I just wait for her to wake up? She seems to be enjoying her rest.”

Incredulous Siddil replied “What do you mean? You wake her up, it’s not that hard. Just poke her a little.”

Kolost got into poking distance and extended his index finger, readying himself for the task ahead. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath; this is where his life begins. With this one simple action he will unleash a series of events he will have little control over until he’s a fully grown adult. He was ready. He opened his eyes, readied his arm.

He poked.

.

..

..

And nothing happened. The mother didn’t wake up. Did he do something wrong? Maybe he should have poked her in the eyes, that would wake up anyone. What was he supposed to do now? He failed, now he’s going to have to wait for her to wake up or even worse find father or a servant. This has been a –

“Poke her again.” Siddil was amazed Kolost didn’t think of this. Maybe being in a child’s body affected him more than they first realised.

Kolost poked her again and again, but she still wasn’t waking up. Seeing that his incessant prodding wasn’t working he tried his earlier. And poked her in the eyes.

“Ow!”

Perhaps a little too hard.