Thin, chalky dust from the rutted road covered his face and hands. Neither the pounding rhythm of the horses, nor the uncomfortable texture of the road grit, inhaled with every breath, distracted him from a moment of silent introspection. He stared out into the distance and yet the trees, fields and roads blurred away and he saw nothing but a reflection of his own troubled mind.Raam Corso mused upon the machinations of fate and freewill, which led him to this carriage on this day. Clothes once stylish and fair now covered in mud and fraying… a purse which once had no bottom, now holding only a pittance. He wondered if the cost of insolence and disobedience was worth the heavy price.
The Corso house earned its place amongst the nobility through an ancient and binding embrace of divine power. For centuries the Corso line had made their mark, not through trade of spices or fabrics, but through the dispensation and control of divine justice. The walls of the Corso estate bore the weight of mural after mural of divine champion. Each heir to the line took upon the mantle of subservience and piety to the Gods of Justice and Law in exchange for all the power and glory such station provides. A stern and proud people, they saw only one path, only one destiny and for centuries this tradition had been upheld without question.
Radir Corso, the current patriarch, had long seethed in silence over the character of his son. Surely a man who so completely devoted his life to justice could not have born such an heir...
Aesthetically Raam was everything a lord could wish for in a son, tall and fair with piercing green eyes and a magnetism, which commanded the attention of all souls in a room. In the eyes of his father, however, that presence was the beginning of Raam’s undoing. Life came too easily to Raam, people bent to his will which led to self-interest and moral ambiguity. Raam was everything Radir was not; charming, opportunistic, and calculating.
Radir watched as Raam mindlessly chanted the prayers to their Gods, his blank stare unfocused and distant. Only the watchful eye of Raam’s mother, Velia, protected him from the harsh rebuke of Radir’s disappointment. She pleaded for Radir’s patience; assuring him that one-day Raam would grow into the family legacy and bring honor to the Corso name.
This winter Velia fell ill with a fever and passed away. With her passing came a series of events, which proved to unravel the fabric of the Corso home.
Radir’s heavy and determined steps carried him to his son’s door. As he stood before the ornate woodwork he set his jaw in determination at what must be done. Raam must come to embrace his heritage and destiny. He must change. Velia could no longer protect her favorite son from the grave. Without announcing his presence Radir pushed open the door. The image inside the room stopped Radir in his tracks and sent a shiver of revulsion throughout his body.
Raam sat with legs crossed on the floor covered in red, crackling eldritch fire. His eyes were closed and his lips mumbled strange incantations.
“What manner of witchcraft is this?” Radir cried out in horror. He reached out to shake Raam out of his trance. The heavy blow to his shoulder snapped Raam’s eyes open which followed in shock as the fire encompassing his body spread up the white robe of his father.
“You have set your black magic upon me,” Radir bellowed in pain as father and son struggled against one another. The strength of the father overwhelmed the son who was thrown to the floor as the red fire dissipated. Raam looked up in horror to see his father’s face burned and blistered by the fire and twisted with a mixture of rage and revulsion.
“Take your black magic from this house and never set foot in these halls again. You have and always will be my shame!”
Those words echoed through Raam’s mind over and over again. What manner of arcane power filled his blood? His magic was no gift from the Gods, nor did he waste away hours learning incantations from dusty books and scrolls. The power was imbued in his very blood. Where did it come from and why did it choose him as its vessel? Where would it take him? What was his destiny?
He began a journey with no destination a week ago and was still lost and alone…
