The trees were a blur as Jubel dashed through the forest, heading south a dead sprint.
The pinkish tinge of the setting sun was fading from the sky, and the new moon left him almost completely blind, but he didn’t dare stop. He’d seen the look in Kelzen’s eye. He was as good as dead if he stopped.
He acted entirely on instinct, vaulting over fallen logs and overgrown bushes as he raced towards what he could only hope was salvation. He dared to hope, for only an instant, that his cousin cared more about keeping his fine clothes clean than he did about punishing him. It would make sense. He always acted like Jubel was beneath his notice - except when taking the time to ‘teach him some manners’ - so perhaps he’d be spared by the man’s sheer arrogance.
Then he heard the screams of rage behind him, and the moment ended.
“GET BACK HERE YOU WORTHLESS RUNT!” Kelzen snarled as he raced gracefully through the trees, completely unhindered by the darkness. “How dare you steal from us?! How dare you strike me?! After all we’ve done for you! I’ll haul you back to Father, and have you answer for your crimes!”
Jubel felt a flash of fury, but pushed it aside. He couldn’t be distracted. His cousin had better eyes, better ears, and better equipment. If he was caught, he’d lose, and if he lost…
The worst his cousin had ever done to him before had been to beat him bloody - usually because of some perceived slight or imagined insult, but sometimes just because he was angry and Jubel was a convenient punching bag who never fought back.
This time would be different. He’d been caught preparing to leave, and in his panic, Jubel had jerked his arm away when Kelzen grabbed it. That alone would’ve enraged the spoiled nobleman, but it was made worse by what was held in that hand.
A sickle.
He hadn’t meant to cut his cousin, of course - even if some small part of him felt Kelzen deserved it - but that hardly mattered. A half elf had wounded a full blooded elven noble. He knew full well what the consequences would be if he was caught.
So he ran. He silently cursed his fear, his weakness, as his breathing grew ragged and his vision blurred. If he had explained that the supplies were his, that he had bought and traded for them fairly, if he explained that he had no intention of claiming the family name outside Milassi, then surely even Kelzen couldn’t hold it against him! He’d only wanted to live his own life, free from the constant commands of his family!
He was shaken from his thoughts as his foot caught on something he hadn't seen, sending him tumbling. Perhaps it was a branch, or a tree stump, or-
Doesn’t matter. MOVE. He willed himself to stand, pushing against the forest floor with what little strength his arms still had… and slowly, painfully, he rose to his feet, breathing hard. He had to move, had to run, but he could barely even stand. He’d been running for so long now… it must’ve been hours. Surely, he could stop for just a moment!
That’s when he heard a twig snap behind him.
He spun around, one hand pulling the sickle that had started this whole mess from his belt as he turned. Cold dread washed over him as a small glow suddenly filled the clearing, illuminating his cousin’s smirking face.
“Awful clumsy of you, tripping like that,” Kelzen drawled, lazily drawing his rapier with one hand while he used the other to toss the small ball of light he’d conjured into the air. It went straight up until it hung about a dozen feet over the elf’s head, illuminating what Jubel now saw to be a small clearing.
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“Kelzen, hold on,” Jubel started, holding his empty hand out in front of him.
“No.”
The elven man leapt forward, swiping with his rapier. Jubel barely had time to react as it grazed his cheek, jerking away and awkwardly flailing the sickle to block the followup thrust.
Jubel’s eyes widened as he slid back, trying desperately to create space between them.
“I don’t want to fight you, cousin!” he pleaded, barely avoiding a lightning fast thrust that would’ve skewered him if he hadn’t moved. “I wasn’t stealing anything, the supplies were -”
“I don’t care about the damn supplies!” Kelzen snarled, holding up an empty hand as he spoke. The hand began to glow a faint blue as lunged forwards, his hand coming within an inch of Jubel’s face. “You dared to scar my face, you bastard!”
Even if his eyes weren’t as sharp as Kelzen’s, Jubel was sure he saw no trace of the small, accidental cut from earlier on his cousin’s immaculate face. “You’ve already healed it, and there’s no scar! Isn’t this a bit much?”
The half elf was so focused on not letting the obvious magic touch him that he was barely able to block the sudden thrust from the raging nobleman’s rapier.
“Shut up, you ungrateful bastard!” the furious elf spat. “You would’ve died long ago if not for my family’s protections, yet you whine and complain at every turn! All I’m doing now is correcting the mistake they made the day you were born!”
“That’s the second time you’ve called me a bastard tonight. Don’t you know that insult works a lot better when it’s not true?” Jubel’s feeble joke was punctuated by another attack from his furious cousin, the now sparking hand missing him by a hair.
He’s really trying to kill me!
He tried to dodge and block the nearly endless stream of attacks, but he was already starting to lag behind, and half a dozen shallow cuts showed just how much faster than him his cousin was. It made sense, he supposed - the ‘true son’s of the Hearfil line’ were trained in magic and fencing from a young age, where all he had to go off of was an old book he was told was his mother’s diary, and the few bits and pieces he’d learned from watching the guards practice on his days off.
His cousin feinted a thrust towards his face, only to pull back and land a kick to the ribs instead.
This is it, Jubel realized as his back slammed into a tree. I’m going to die. 19 years of being treated like a servant, abused and ignored, and then I die because my fucking cousin can’t control his temper.
The smirking elf seemed taller as he looked down at his former punching bag. Satisfied as he looked at his handiwork. Proud, even!
“Get on your hands and knees and beg,” Kelzen said softly. “If you’re convincing enough, I might even spare your life!”
Jubel stared blankly at the young man who so casually threatened him. Beg? Beg or die? No, beg and die, because he wasn’t stupid enough to believe the monster his cousin had become would spare him now. How could he have been so stupid?! Why had he tried to talk down the maniac? He knew better! He’d seen just how deranged his cousin became when he lost his temper, how dangerous he was when his pride was on the line, and he still tried to use their family ties as a shield, to settle things peacefully!
I want to live. I want to be free! Someone! Anyone!
DON’T LET ME DIE HERE!
Jubel felt something snap as he moved.
His arm lashed out on its own as his temper flared, his rusty sickle knocking the rapier out of his cousin’s hand with surprising speed and force. He took only the briefest of moments to savor the shock on his arrogant cousin’s face as he moved. Words came unbidden to his mouth, though he could barely hear them over the pounding of his own heart as it roared in his ears.
His sickle gleamed in the moonlight as he swung it with all his might.
Wait, wasn’t tonight -
The rusty blade carved through flesh and bone in one fell swoop, lopping his cousin’s glowing hand clean off. Both of them stared in surprise and horror as blood fountained from the stump where a hand had once been.
“YOU! How? HOW DARE?!” His cousin babbled, falling backwards. His form seemed to be shimmering somehow, and Jubel thought he could hear a distant peal of thunder as Kelzen turned to run. “When Father hears about this he’ll-”
The thunder wasn’t so distant now, crashing over the pair of them with enough force that the young half elf thought he could feel his teeth rattle in his skull. But he wasn’t the one who felt the worst of it.
His cousin had fallen to the ground, his body now smoking as if he’d been struck by lightning. Jubel gaped at his cousin’s corpse as he heard a distant laugh echo through the trees.
“There is a price to pay for power, Jubel Heartfell,” a soft voice called out, coming from everywhere and nowhere. “But when that price is paid, power must be given.”
Not knowing what else to do, Jubel nodded, turned his back on the corpse of a man who had once been family, and ran.