Fire eyes

With the shackles now removed from the elves, each of them were a mixture of many different emotions. It was now that the reality actually set in fully for them. They hadn't fully believed the words of the humans or the orcs that had promised them they would be free, but now, their shackles were off. For the first time, they were completely free.

The Shaman didn't end her chanting around the elves once the shackles were off, instructing Malach to discard them into a vat above a flame to melt the metal.

"You are free now, free to use your gift of flame, your birthright. But, you must use it with caution. Your kind has been kept powerless. But power must first be tamed to be used properly."

Malach listened to the Shaman speaking, watching her with a skeptical expression. "Let's get them used to being here before we have them wielding fire. It was a long travel, they should rest."

The Shaman tsked at him. Shaking her head as she kneeled before the elves. "No Malach. That will lead to them having accidents. They must understand how it feels to use it, so they don't do it unintentionally." She shoots Malach a look with a snort, looking back at the elves.

"You'd think him to not be a father with that logic." She chuckled at her own comment, bringing some ease to the elves even though they were still quite scared.

Malach didn't verbally respond, but it was pretty obvious he was a bit annoyed. He stood there with his arms crossed.

The Shaman took the hands of one of the elves in front of her. Her hands were large in comparison, rough to the touch but she was gentle. Her mismatched eyes peered at the small elves' eyes with a strange warmth. "Warm your hands, and gradually build up the heat. Let's see if you can make some fire, little one."

The other elves move back a little, unsure of what would happen without their shackles. The small elf that the Shaman was in front of looked at their hands, which instantly grew warmer, and then even grew hot.

They became tense, and afraid, pulling their hands away from the Shaman to only have them be returned into her grasp.

"You will not burn me, little one. The magic you hold is yours, and you must harness it. You all must."

It took some time for the elf to become comfortable and conjure up a flame. It wasn't large as she got frightened by her own magic. Their eyes had glowed a beautiful orange yellow hue when they used their magic. The Shaman laughed heartily at their adorable reactions. Seeing their magic in use for the first time, and seeing that the flame had no effect on the Shaman helped them relax a little.

"There there little ones. Malach, come help them. They will all need food after this but with both of us, it will move quicker." She beckoned Malach, who seemed uninterested in getting closer to the elves. The Shaman was very careful as she took the hands of another elf, Shireen, taking the time to calm the elf.

Malach was seemingly annoyed, the scents within the hut were giving him a stinging headache. The mixture of the elves' emotions and the incense were only slightly filtered by his mask. Reluctantly he sat before the elves, purposely avoiding Cyrus who has refused to look at him the majority of the time they have been there.

He sat in front of Zestari, offering out his hands for her. She immediately took his hands, smiling up at him. The way she looked at him made him want to run right out of the tent as he remembered what happened in the Rose Maiden's den. He inhaled deeply before he softly sighed.

"Okay… Just.. Let your magic flow into your hands." He very dully repeated what the Shaman said. Almost immediately Zestari's hands burst into flames with a huge spark, her eyes glowing a vibrant pink color. The flames kept growing in her hands, making Zestari scream.

This caused a panic in the elves but Malach clasped his hands over hers to try and snuff the flames, he only managed to keep the flames from getting bigger. The fire burned his gloves and his hands were stinging, but he calmly spoke to Zestari as she started to cry.

"It's ok, collect yourself. Magic can be influenced by your emotions. You won't hurt me. Concentrate."

After completely burning through Malach's gloves she finally got her flames to cooperate with her. She sat there excitedly holding 2 small flames in her hands, closing her hands to extinguish them. Once done with Zestari, Malach tossed his gloves away.

The Shaman and Malach helped the elves slowly as they got in touch with their magic. Cyrus was terrified as he was watching them all harness the fire and watching the orcs not be injured by it. When it was down to just him and another elf whom he was holding onto, he didn't want to let them go, not even realizing that Malach sat before him.

Malach looked back and forth a few times between Cyrus and the Shaman. "Trade me." He whispered under his breath.

The Shaman inhaled sharply and huffed at him. Shaking her head as she took Cyrus' hands and put them into Malach's hands. "No. Syaket tells me not to." She took the other elves' hands and ignored Malach.

Malach and Cyrus looked at eachother. Cyrus was stiff and mortified. All he could see was Malach's face from his dream. Malach clicked his tongue at the Shaman.

"I seriously doubt that Syaket said a damn thing." He got a whack in the head but no other response from the Shaman.

Malach looked back to Cyrus, the amount of fear radiating off of the elf made him nauseous and he tried his best to speak calmly. "I'm… Not going to hurt you." The calmness sounded more like pain.

Cyrus flinched when he looked at his eyes. Trembling as he held his gaze, he wanted to believe him. His eyes weren't like they were in his dream, but he couldn't relax. An elf beside him rubbed his shoulder, knowing Cyrus was afraid.

Malach paid no mind to the crying elf in front of the Shaman who set the rug on fire, gently squeezing Cyrus' hand to keep his attention as he looked away at her with worry.

"I know you don't like me. But, I won't harm you. Let's… get this over with… okay Cyrus?"

Cyrus nodded, still nervous as he felt a painful heat build up in his stomach. He sat there, looking down at their hands for a few minutes without saying or doing anything.

"Focus on your-"

"I know! I know… I… I know I will…I just… give me a second.." Cyrus' voice cracked as he cut Malach off, expecting him to yell at him. After a minute of complete silence in the hut he pulled his hands away, or tried to at least.

"If you are afraid of hurting me, then you are wasting your thoughts." Malach told him plainly as he closed his hands over his wrists.

Cyrus felt trapped, and it made him angry. He tried standing up to pull away from Malach.

"OH how KIND of you to remind me how weak I am compared to you!"

Cyrus' outburst was very unexpected and unlike him, the Elves didn't know how to react. They began shifting away from them both with the Shaman as she guided them away.

"Malach isn't going to hurt him.. Right?" Shireen asked the Shaman, who shook her head as she kept them all safe beside her.

Malach stood up and lessened his grip slightly so he didn't hurt Cyrus. This made it so he could wiggle one hand free. Before Malach could speak in response he was slapped hard by Cyrus who was panicking as past traumas started to overwhelm his mind.

Malach still held his hand, turning too look back at Cyrus, not in anger but more of worry. His tusks poked through his mask from the slap. He unhooked his tusks as he pulled the mask down. Meanwhile Cyrus was blubbering as he cried, covering his mouth as he tried his hardest to run away from Malach.

"Cyrus.." Malach called out softly. This only got a terrified whimper in response. Malach sighed softly, looking at the worried elves who wanted to help. "Cyrus." He spoke a bit louder as he turned back to him.

"I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry! I won't do it again!" Cyrus hysterically spoke.

The Shaman lifted her arm to the roof of the hut and pulled a rope, letting a large tied up hide flap fall down to close off the other side of the tent. She hushed the elves and assured them it would be fine. She could tell that them watching was making Cyrus more worried.

Cyrus didn't even notice the flap that now separated them from the elves and the Shaman. He was fully expecting Malach to beat him, even though he had no reason to believe he would.

"Cyrus… Look at me." Malach gently pulled his hand to bring him closer. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Cyrus shook his head in disbelief. Looking at him with a lowered head as he trembled, he was afraid and ashamed.

Malach held out his other hand and urged him to grab it. "You can hit me, burn me, spit on me. Call me whatever you want. I'm not going to hurt you. Now, give me your hand."

Cyrus did as he said. Not believing his words he suddenly started feeling really out of it. His mind was racing with images. Some imaginary, some memories. He didn't even realize his hand was bleeding. Until he felt a slight sting as Malach pressed a cloth to the small gash on his palm.

"What- what are you doing?"

"You hurt yourself on my tusk, I'm making sure you're ok."

Cyrus was confused. Staring at Malach's face without his mask, he looked the same as his dream. But less menacing. Malach looked up at him from his hand and spoke, but Cyrus didn't catch what he said. After his emotions were so high and overwhelming he was becoming numb.

"Cyrus. Hey, are you alright?" Cyrus still didn't hear him.

His eyes looked at his facial features. Looking over every scar, looking over his eyebrows, his strong features. His red eyes went wide and glowed brightly as he saw the small amount of blood on his tusk from his hand, just like his dream when Malach had a bloody mouth. A surge of fear overcame him once again and his hands conjured massive flames.

Malach was startled, he did the same as before, covering Cyrus' hands with his own. But this time it didn't work, the flames only started to cover Malach's hands and arms as they grew. His armor and clothing got hot, and started to burn. When he looked at Cyrus he seemed hollow and afraid as he didn't know what to do about the fire.

"Hey, it's ok-"

"No, it's not! They won't go out! Let me go! Please!" The more frantic Cyrus got the more the flames sparked off and started catching parts of the hut on fire.

"Cyrus, look at me. You need to relax."

"I can't look at you!" He cried painfully as he panicked, the fire didn't hurt him even as it started covering his body. But he was afraid.

Malach released his hands, dropping his burning armor off. The Shaman started trying to get the flames out that burned the flap that separated them. The elves didn't know what to do as they huddled together and watched.

Malach, now only wearing his pants and greaves, wrapped his arms around Cyrus and lowered his face close to his ear. The fire stung him, but it didn't actually do anything to him.

"Cyrus, it's ok. I'm not going to let anything happen to you, or the others."

"I can't trust you!" He tried to push him off, sobbing into his chest and gasping for air.

"You're safe Cyrus!" Shireen yelled from the other side of the room. Malach noticed Cyrus slightly relaxed from that.

Malach cradled his head, holding him tightly to himself. Repeating "You're safe Cyrus." over and over.

He cried more before finally calming down enough for his fire to die out. The Shaman stopped the flames from spreading too much. Except Malach's armor which was crispy and melted.

Malach held onto Cyrus. His large scar covered body was steaming and unburnt. Cyrus had calmed down, and went limp as he passed out. He was scooped up in Malach's arms.

"He's fine.. You all should eat while he rests." Malach was extremely uncomfortable being so exposed.

He walked through a bead door behind him to where a bed was to lay Cyrus down. The cloak Cyrus wore was scorched, but intact mostly. The elves swarmed around Malach as he placed him in the bed, rushing to Cyrus' side and practically forcing Malach away from him. The Shaman laughed, grabbing one of her tunics and tossing it at Malach.

"Cyrus can stay here while he rests. Once he wakes up he will join you all and eat." She speaks as she bows before the Naga statue. Inhaling deeply with her eyes closed.

"Malach, your food will be brought. You will stay with Cyrus."

Malach grumbled as he got the tunic on. Side eyeing the Naga statue as he grumbles. "Let me guess. Your God told you I must?"

He cast a glance to the elves who removed Cyrus' burnt clothes and tucked him in the bed. He then walked close to the Shaman and spoke almost inaudibly.

"I don't know if you noticed, but he is terrified of me. He will most likely set things on fire when he wakes up and sees me." The Shaman bopped his head and whispered as well.

"My King. You may not believe in my Gods, but they favor you." She raised her voice, pushing past Malach as she motioned for the Elves to follow her.

"Food is ready, little fire eyes. Me thinks you will enjoy the food here, many of you need to put on some weight, otherwise the autumn winds will take you." The Shaman was charming, and the elves seemed to like and trust her.

They gave Malach a bow before leaving the hut. He nodded to them in return, being left to stew in his annoyance as he paced the large empty hut. His eyes rather glued on Cyrus, the bead door barely hiding him from his sight he kept thinking over everything that happened. Not sure why the sight of him causes him so much distress, enough to go into such a panic he loses all control of himself.

He looks at the Naga statue of Syaket. "If I say I believe in you will you tell me the answers to my questions? Or at least help me?" He stared at the naga and started to wear down mentally. Running his hand down his face in defeat he shook his head and harshly sighed with a deep melancholy. "Why do I even try...?"

He got no response. The gods left him alone with no answers, no comfort. Just as they always had. At least, that was how he saw it.