Sup peeps? Here's a backstory on one of my characters. Enjoy. Like. Share. Subscribe. ;)

************************************************

A boy about 12 years old sighed and closed his book. Beside him were parchments filled with notes on the history of magic, spells and techniques used to perform them. While he stood, he stretched and rubbed his eyes. He had been studying for quite some time now, and his master was not back from the village. After placing the book on top of a steadily growing stack, he looked out the cottage window and saw a melancholy sky. It's grey gloom covered the happy blue like a blanket. Then tears began falling; the amount grew rapidly until it was like a bucket of water being dumped from Heaven.

Jericho is probably seeking shelter in the village. He won't be back for quite some time, he thought with a long sigh. The fire in the hearth crackled warmly and over it a pot of stew broiled. I should probably do some more studying, but- his eyes turned toward the rickety old ladder that led to the attic; his master's office. He had been up there many times, but never long enough to examine all the strange items that were up there.

After second-guessing himself several times, he allowed his hands to grasp the ladder. He climbed up it quickly, feeling the wood beneath him shudder from the little weight he had. The boy had always been small for his age, and at his growth rate, always will be. This was a familiar trait to mages, especially forest mages, which was the art the boy was in as an apprentice. Making it to the top, he nimbly climbed through the small opening and stood up strait.

His heartbeat quickened at the sight of the shelves that contained hours of exploration. Rain still pattered on the roof and a lightning began flashing. Strong gusts of wind shook the little hut. The boy's eyes landed on a massive chest in the corner of the attic. Scanning the area around him just to be safe, he slowly walked over to the chest. Hesitantly, he opened it and saw so many interesting things that just needed to be touched.

As he reached out to touch a glowing orb that shone different colors, there was the sound of an opening window. His heart leapt to his throat and he jerked around to see rain pouring into the room and parchments flying everywhere. A loud crack of thunder followed a blinding flash of lightning and the boy pushed the window with all his might until it shut. He slumped over and took in a deep breath.

"Why didn't you let me in, Ronder?" a hoot came from his master's desk.

Ronder looked up and frowned at the sight of Haunt, his master's great horned owl. "For one, why were you outside on a day like this?"

"I was out all night and when I came back, the windows and doors were shut. Thank goodness that storm came in and broke me a way in. I disappointed to find out Jericho's little pet still here. You're lucky I'm not telling him that you are in here."

"He can't even understand you. Understanding animals is a rare talent."

"What if he can? You don't tell anybody that you understand animals, so why would he?"

"If he heard you making those rude comments he would've sent you away by now."

"I come and go on my own terms."

"Then if you hate me so much, why do you come back?"

"Because you have free food."

Ronder rolled his eyes then muttered a cleaning spell. The mess began sorting itself out and the mop wiped the floors on it's own.

"At least you remember that one," Haunt commented.

"I also know a spell to turn a bird into a roast if you don't shut up."

Not another hoot came from the owl. Ronder turned to the chest and knelt down next to it. Gently, he lifted the glass orb from the chest and adjusted his sitting position. Gazing into it, he saw a young man and woman trudging through the forest. The woman carried a bundle and screaming baby noises came from it. He watched as they came upon a cottage in the middle of the forest; the very same cottage that he sat in. It soon all came to him; the couple was his parents, and he was the baby.

They knocked on the cottage door. A younger Jericho answered the door. He could not hear their conversation, but he watched as they entered the cottage. There was a pause then time seemed to skip. On a day where a storm raged, his parents were running, his mother cradling a two year old version of himself. A vague memory flashed in his mind; the feeling of sharp pine needles scratching his skin, and the mud on the forest floor. The mother slipped and fell. A cloaked figure in the forest was chasing them. His father ran up to his mother and the screaming two year old.

Energy sparked from the dark figure and the father jumped in front of the mother, right on time to block the spell. He cried out then crumpled to the ground. The mother screamed and began stumbling to her feet, trying to hold the bawling and squirming two year old. More sparks of energy flew from the cloaked figure's hands. His mother clutched the child to her breast and shielded the child from the death curse. The mother slumped over, lifeless.

Before the cloaked figure could kill the child, Jericho blasted him away. After an intense battle, the cloaked figure vanished and Jericho crumpled to his knees, panting. The orb went dark. Ronder stared at the wooden floor in shock. That was the answer to the one question Jericho never responded to, "Where are my parents?"

"Ronder," a deep yet gentle voice came from the ladder.

The boy jumped to his feet at the sound of his master's voice. He had not realized the rain had stopped a long time ago. His master was short, but he made up for it in muscle and skill at his magic. His dark brown hair had streaks of grey and a short beard hung from his face. Tattooed on his neck was his mark as a forest mage. It was a symbol of the element his master had a rare specialty in, wind.

Ronder stared at the ground, ready to accept any punishment his master would give him.

"Where you holding that Historia Orb over there?" he gestured to the orb.

Ronder nodded.

"So you know?"

Ronder nodded again.

"I'm sorry I left it for you to figure out, it's just hard to talk about."

This took Ronder by surprise.

"Your father, was my brother. He was no mage. He asked me to train you to be a mage and I promised to protect him and his family. I failed," Jericho lowered himself into his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You did manage to save me though. He sacrificed himself for me and my mother," Ronder told him, trying to be comforting, "and they were alone, there was no way you could've known-"

"I should have been there."

"Life doesn't always go as planned, and you still are keeping your word by training me and protecting me."

Silence rested between them, then Jericho asked, "Want to talk more about it over super?"

Ronder's stomach growled. He nodded.

They climbed down the rickety old ladder and enjoyed the rest of the evening with a warm bowl of stew.