Author's Notes: I hope this doesn't get confusing BUT...the first section of this is in first-person PAST. While after that it moves back into PRESENT tense. The reason for this? Kelch is basically telling his story at first. Then the voice shifts from him telling the story, to him being part of the story. If that makes any sense...

Ever seen one of those movies...where the narrator starts off? “This is what happened. This is where I am now...Blah blah blah...” And then the camera comes upon the person telling the story and the movie starts with little or no narrator until the end or something. This is...kind of like that.

I'm horrible with explanations.

--

2

I was born in a small farmer's house between the Human town of Endrick and the Elven forest Dae’nala to the northeast. It was a typical country dwelling; well, typical for a poor family at least. Basically, it was shaped like a square, and separated into three rooms. Dining room. Den. And a bedroom.

To tell the truth, I don't remember much of that place. Just hazy memories of a time long gone.

My mother was an Elf. My father was a Human. How they met and why they lived slightly separated from both societies, I will never know. I never had a chance to ask them.

See, there was a fire one night. No one else knows how it started, but I did. It was my fault.

There's a reason I survived. I guess I was doomed from the beginning to be an assassin.

I suppose I could blame my cousin: Ka'na. She's an Elf sorceress. She put the idea in my head. You have to understand, though, that she was a child of my mother's sister. And my aunt did not like my mother, for whatever reason. Apparently, Ka'na grew up to hate my mother and my father as well...but she didn't hate me. At least, I don't think she did.

I remember playing outside in the fields when she came by. My mother was in the house and didn't see her. My father was too busy to notice. But she came nonetheless. She came and planted ideas in my mind.

Ideas that any childish mind would grab onto. Tales of magic, of a richer lifestyle, of more than just the two people who cared for me. She told me of all these wondrous things, painted this most interesting picture. I was enthralled and trapped in her game almost instantly.

She told me I could be a hero...and everyone knows that's any child's dream. And then she started to teach me things. Little things.

Of course, she didn't tell me or teach me everything in one visit. She would travel the road between Endrick and Dae’nala a lot. Keep in mind, she was an Elf sorceress. Who knows what she did in her free time? Magic that goes beyond my head, for sure.

I remember waiting for her to walk by. Sometimes, I would just stand outside and look down both roads, wondering which direction she would come from, wondering if she would come at all. I loved my parents, I guess. They weren't cruel or anything. They were actually really nice and caring...They took care of me, fed me, let me play. It's just that they weren't near as entertaining as Ka'na.

Most every child feels that way, I suppose. Parents are a constant. They'll always be there. Why worry about them? Why bother them when they were working? When you have a friend that only comes to visit once every so often, that friend quickly starts to take up your interest more so than what your parents are doing.

And Ka'na was interesting.

She not only told me stories, but she taught me things, as I've said before. She taught me how to use ropes.

I can remember my mother asking why I had calluses and burns on my hands. I gave her my first little lie. Oh, I told her it was from playing on ropes, but I didn't tell her where I got the rope...or where it went. And she didn't ask.

You're probably wondering how I remember all this, especially after I told you I didn't remember much. I'm telling the truth in everything I say. I don't remember much of the place. All I can recall are certain small scenes from my childhood. I don't know how anyone else remembers things, but that's how my memory works.

Anyway, Ka'na eventually got to telling me of the family dagger. Ildri she called it. Some family legend states that each family dagger is crafted with the shards of a sword that belonged to some long dead hero, who, of course, was an ancestor. While telling me the legend, she showed me the dagger she carried. And when I gazed on the sharp, well-crafted weapon, the hilt decorated with a raven holding a thorny rose in its mouth...When I gazed on the weapon, I immediately wanted one to call my own.

What small boy wouldn't?

I voiced my desire, and she told me how to get it.

To this day, I can't tell you why I simply shrugged off the requirement. Maybe because I was still a child, still naïve. I had yet to understand death. To me, it may have seemed like a game. I don't know.

Whatever the reason, I didn't hesitate in agreeing to do as she asked. What was the price?

I had to kill my parents.

Cousin Ka'na planned it all out. She told me to count the sunsets, and on the sixth one to sneak into the house with rope she would leave me...and I would tie my parents to their bed. Without making a sound.

Obviously, they stayed asleep throughout the whole ordeal. I took the rope, I tied them to their bed, and then I stole the dagger from my mother's own private drawer. Then I escaped the house.

Without making a sound.

Ka'na met me outside. I can still remember the satisfied smirk on her face. I can still remember my happiness at having my own piece of family heritage, my own Ildri.

Little did I know that when she set the house on fire...when I stared at the blazing flames...when I finally realized that my parents were dead...

Little did I know that I would forever be scarred with the shame and guilt of causing my own parents' death.

It would haunt me forever after, although I worked very hard to forcibly suppress the memory of standing there in front of the burning house, hearing the death screams of my parents. I don't remember if I tried to run in and save them. I don't remember if I felt guilty right away.

To tell the truth, I don't remember anything after that except for the horrible headache in the morning.

--

I wake up in a new room, my eyes opening slowly into the darkness of a room without windows. Jumping up, slightly freaked because of the dark, my eyes roam my new surroundings. It's too dark to see much. There's a big shape in one direction. There's something that looks like another bed over there. The big tall shape could be a tall dresser or some sort of furniture. Still...it's a little disorienting to not be able to see what you're looking at. I can feel my heart beating fast in my chest.

Then I hear voices, muffled because of the wall or the door separating them from me. A light enters the room as the voices grow slightly louder. My eyes instantly catch and hold onto the candlelight that's peeking out from the cracks of the door.

I hear cousin Ka'na's voice. “Do you really think it wise to trust me with the brat?”

Tears threaten to break through my eyes. The voice I remember as sweet and smooth is now harsh and demeaning. She made me do it. She made me...

One tear escapes as I clench my fists and glare down at the bed covers I'm sitting under. A harsh ache pounds from the back of my head.

“I don't see how I'm a better choice,” says a deep male voice.

They continue to argue. I hardly listen. My mind is too focused on what I've done.

Dead. Gone. In a fire. My fault. My fault...

Another tear tracks down my face. I sniff and rub my eyes. I don't want to cry. My dad used to make fun of me when I cried. I don't want to...

Dad...Dead...My fault...

Two tears escape this time. I hold my hands over my eyes, rubbing, trying to force them back. Trying not to think of my parents. Of my father's laugh. Of my mother's smile...

Mom...Dad...I'm sorry...

A whimper falls off my tongue, and I bite my lip, sniffling. Alone. I'm alone in the dark. But I don't care. I don't want to cry...I don't want to remember...Why can't I stop remembering?

Why did I do it? Why?

In my mind, I see the dagger. The Ildri. The family dagger. I remember Ka'na's story. I remember my need, my want, my desire to steal the dagger...to have my own. I wanted it so bad, I did what she told me...I lied to my parents. I killed them.

My fault.

This time, I give up on fighting the tears. Falling back to the bed, I turn on my stomach and cry into the pillow. Wailing out my sorrow. Almost welcoming the dampness against my face.

My hands drift underneath the pillow, and I feel it. The dagger hilt.

Fighting back my tears for just a moment, I pull the weapon out from under my pillow, turning my head to the side in order to look at it, hiccuping softly. There is enough dim light in the room now to where I can see somewhat. The rest of the room is still dark and gray with unknown shapes, but I know what the weapon in my hand is. I know what I'm looking at it. So the details are easier to make out.

There's a sheath around the blade. It has the same emblem on it. The raven and the rose. When I see it, I hiccup again. For some odd reason, I manage to keep my tears back this time.

I tighten my fingers around the sheathed dagger, and then I pull it toward me, holding it against my chest like a baby holds a stuffed animal. Closing my eyes, I manage to calm my beating heart. For some reason, the weapon seems to comfort me.

I feel...

Odd. Less sad. But not happy. Not really much of anything. More or less numb, I suppose.

Just as I'm drifting into sleep, the door to my room opens. I don't open my eyes. I just listen.

The male voice from before grunts into the quiet darkness. “Well, kid, it looks like I'm stuck with you. Cuddle with that dagger now, and sleep while you can. I don't care how young you are or how sheltered you've lived your life so far. Starting tomorrow, you're going to have to learn how to make a life for yourself.”