The blade in his hand began to glow red hot once again, but didn’t melt as the sand had. She didn’t have time to worry about what was about to happen before the blade was sailing toward her feet. Upon making contact with the surface, the water exploded into a cloud of fog, obscuring her vision entirely. She could hear movement in the water but it didn’t sound as if it was coming from in front of her anymore. As the cloud vanished, so had Zaramir. She whipped around, expecting a volley of water worse than the vortex. Instead she found him lounging at the table, fileting the fish he’d skewered with his glass blade.

“Care to join me?” He jested from across the room.

She trudged out of the water, locking eyes with him in a dubious glare. She returned to the table, sliding into her seat, only to jump back up as a fist-sized saucer of water exploded under her, soaking her backside.

Zaramir hid his impish smile behind the blade of the knife as he used it to bring a slice of raw fish to his mouth.

“Clever,” She muttered, ringing out the back of her dress, unable to conceal her own smile. “But you don’t happen to have a way to dry this do you? Because it’s quite cold.”

He chuckled, “ Of course.” He muttered the words to an unknown spell, and warm, almost hot, air surrounded her, drying her within a few minutes. Upon her taking her seat in her now dried chair, he added, “I did hold true to my word that I was going to finish it.”

“I’ll get you back somehow,” She chuckled. “Though it’s kind of funny. I never would have guessed you would enjoy any part of something like this; the fishing, the water antics.”

“Why not?” he questioned as he took a handful of the pearlfish she’d gathered, heating them up in his palm with his Blaze of Stars Runebind, though it glowed less bright, only turning his skin red like molten metal opposed to the bright flare.

“I don’t know you seem a bit…” High-strung. Self important. “Sophisticated for something like this.”

“I enjoy the simple things,” He set the now steaming pearlfish in front of her with a smile. “Before I lived in my current home I lived here in Pearl’s keep,” He lowered his voice. “Though it was little more than a fishing village back then.”

“You lived here?” She fully cracked open a now ajar pearlfish. “I have a hard time picturing it.”

He nodded, returning his voice to its regular volume, “I actually enjoyed it if you can believe that.”

“Why’d you leave?” She questioned, slurping the pearlfish.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, voice lowering once again, to nearly inaudible, “My particular magical talents were discovered here and were, shall we say, less than appreciated by the humans, but my… employers found plenty of use for them but they keep a much tighter leash on me than most others of my kind because of it.”

The second Pearlfish stopped halfway to her mouth, “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be,” he gave a casual shrug, taking a pearlfish for himself. “I did enjoy it here, but the peaceful experimentation is much more pleasant than other things I could be doing.”

Every Faedemon recorded throughout history had either been an assassin of an important figure or a berserker sent to take out entire villages, sometimes even kingdoms, in violent rampages. So his words held a lot more weight than his tone portrayed.

She quickly changed the topic, “So knife fishing; do you have any other strange hobbies or just that one?”

He laughed suddenly, the pearlfish nearly slipping off its shell, “I have had time to gain a lot of skills, but I wouldn’t really consider them to be hobbies. My work doesn’t afford me the time to develop real interests. In fact the most time I’ve spent not working in a very long time was since you joined me in my home. So I suppose that makes teaching you magic my hobby.”

“You really don’t have anything you like to do? For fun? To relax? I mean you can’t be working all the time.”

He raised a teasing eyebrow, “I don’t even sleep.” He said in a low voice, a joking smile spread over his lips.

“Alright, fine. What would you want to do then?” She questioned grabbing another pearlfish from the slowly growing pile of cooked fish.

He leaned back in his chair, “I can’t say I’ve thought about it. There’s not really much point.”

Guilt rose behind her sternum. He was right. There was no point in hoping for a relaxing life in which he could do whatever he pleased. He'd have that luxury. She was about to change the topic once again when he spoke up instead.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“Though I suppose if I had to pick a hobby I might say, perhaps, an artistic one. I do enjoy sculpting clay golems and drawing alchemical diagrams.” He mused. “What hobbies do you enjoy?”

She hadn’t pictured him as an artist, “I used to garden with my mother and I really loved riding our family horse.” She responded. “But, of course, studying magical theory was my favorite thing to do by far. We didn’t have an extensive collection of books available in my village, so I’d ride to the next town over to visit their library.”

“I suppose that’s why you were so enraptured by that book that I let you study. We’ll have to pick up some books for you before returning home.”

“Don’t you have many books already?” She inquired. “You could always put that translation rune on the ones I can't read.”

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, “It would be best to get more… appropriate books for you to read.” His voice carried an echo of a shudder, there was something dark behind his eyes.

The blood drained from her face as she recognized that look. That regret, that fear

The book. Was sharing that book the “mistake” he’d made? The little mistake who’s punishment was torture and a spellbinding curse?

“Alright,” She agreed, forcing the word out over her dry throat.

His face relaxed to his usual casual smile, “There’s an excellent bookshop not far from the registry. You can pick out anything you’d like once we’ve finished our work. Have you read the history of the First House? It’s fascinating and if you find the edition written by its descendants, there’s some very useful, albeit archaic, Conjuration spells in the margins. Though it may be difficult to find that edition.” He pondered. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll keep a look out for it if we can’t find it this time.”

She nodded, “That would be nice.” She couldn’t get the image out of her head. Those wounds, that agony all over a book. A simple history book.

He stared at her for a moment, “You seem upset over something.” He noted. “What’s wrong?”

She could still see the faint remains of those scars across the side of his face. They were nearly faded to the point where you wouldn’t even notice them if you didn’t know they were there.

She couldn’t ask him about the Fae, she knew that, but they were just so vile. She just wished she could know why. She didn’t understand how they could be so cruel to him. He wasn’t truly their child, but he was living and sentient. There are so many other ways they could wreak chaos in the human world if they wanted to.

Golems never lived. They were constructs without thoughts and feelings. The Fae could easily create golems more physically capable than the average mage, and they could create hundreds of them. They wouldn’t disobey and they wouldn’t feel pain. They wouldn’t be as powerful as Faedemons, not even close, and they couldn’t cast more than basic spells, but their numbers should easily make up for it. If they simply wanted to over power humans, slaughter them all for whatever reason they had, this would be the easiest solution.

So why Faedemons? There must be some other reason. A reason she knew couldn’t possibly be good.

It was a long moment before she realized she hadn't answered his question, “Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about things.”

“Are you sure?” He inquired.

“Positive.” She replied, putting on a smile and grabbing another pearlfish.

He didn’t look like he believed her but he didn’t press the issue.

As she cracked the pearlfish, she noticed a hint of color among the ivory meat. She reached into the slimy flesh to pull out a teeny blue pearl. It was barely as big as the width of a grain of rice. It was far too small to be a prize pearl, but had it had more time it would have a rare and exceptionally valuable one.

She remembered her lost pearl as she plucked it out, polishing the slimy residue away with her fingertips.

“You found a pearl. How lucky.” He smiled, extending a hand. “Can I see it?”

She passed it over the table.

He carefully scrutinized the tiny treasure, “Very nice, nearly flawless.”

“I had one like that when I was young. It was the same color but not as smooth, though it was a bit bigger.”

“You seem to have good fortune with pearls.”

She laughed, “Well, I lost the first one so I wouldn’t say that.”

“Hmm.” he seemed to be lost in thought. “Could I see that ring I gave you?” he questioned suddenly.

She slid it off her finger, handing it to him, “Sure. Why?”

He bent over, swiping a small palmful of sand from the cavern floor. His hand began to glow around it. He set the ring and pearl down on the table as he began forming the glass into a crude shape. Swiping the ring from the table, he slid it into the molten glass. He moulded the molten glass around it, so it formed a glass covering surrounding the outside and edges of the ring. Pinching bits of the molten material, he pulled them into a twisting claw.

After waiting a moment for the glass to cool slightly, he set the pearl in place. Warming just the prongs of the claw so they could grasp it, he delicately pushed them into place around the pearl.

He set the newly finished ring in front of her, “There.”

She took the ring, running her thumb over the smooth glass and the ensnared pearl.

“It’s not perfect,” he added. “But, it will ensure you won’t lose it before we return home.”

The metal remained warm, but the glass had cooled as she slid it back over her finger, “It’s beautiful.”

“I’m glad you think so.” He smiled proudly.