This prompted a huge Tale of Omphalos: The Shadow Forest about Leiwell's youth, which I'm posting in segments on Wednesdays. Here is the second part...
The cackling was cut off, even as Leiwell’s feet found solid ground. He looked down to see black and white tiles, checked, stretching out beneath the pillars of what might be some sort of temple. The face of the man smiling down at him had the serene countenance and well-shaped, yet mournful features of a forgotten god, beardless and pale. He wore dark green robes, almost black, high-necked, hiding all of his body except for his face and his long, graceful white hands.
“Master.” Leiwell allowed his lips to shape those words as he looked into luminous eyes filled with lavender, pink, sky blue, and gray light. “I feared you’d forgotten me.”
“Never.” The boy was pulled into a chill embrace, which grew warmer with his master’s proximity to his small form. “Leiwell, my Leiwell, I longed to find you once more, but you instead found me.” That deep, musical voice made the hairs on Leiwell’s arms and legs stand up and sway with every word, caressing the inner crevices of his ears. “What brings you to the threshold of my Door and into my arms at such a tender age?”
There was an implication that being here, allowing his master to hold him was too soon. Perhaps but Leiwell didn’t want to let his master go, to walk away from his soothing voice, especially after the raven’s harsh laughter.
He took a step back when released, studying the beloved countenance of the one who’d coaxed him into existence. Pale hair fell over his master’s shoulders, full and loose. Within the prismic mixture of colour in his cool eyes were reflections of Leiwell, small, white-faced, and guilty.
“Master.” He gazed at the silver leaves caught in his master’s moonlit locks. How different he seemed since Leiwell last saw him, yet he was not too changed. “The raven sent me, perhaps as a snack?”
Not that Leiwell cared if he was. Not if it meant being with his master again for a few moments.
“Hush! You should not value your life or your safety so lightly, that you listen to so malicious a bird as Gryluxx.” His master stroked Leiwell’s cheek, touching the boy’s lips. “That bird means ill to anyone he can trick into walking into his traps.”
Leiwell shivered at those silky fingers’ caress. “Forgive me. I was curious. The symbol on your Door frightens me, yet it seems familar. I felt almost drawn to it.”
“We both are.” His master ran his fingers through Leiwell’s hair, seeming to savour the touch of it as much as Leiwell savoured being touched. “I hoped your time away with women who aren’t spiders or serpents would loosen their hold on you.”
A thought of Map scowling, her face wrinkling with worry bloomed within Leiwell’s mind. She looked younger than she’d ever been, dressed in a green gown which seemed the very twin of the robes his master wore, studying the door while refusing to move too close to it.
“Please.” Leiwell squirmed, unsure what he was asking for, but his master’s touch had turned uncomfortable, just as it was uncomfortable connecting Map to his master, or Map with the monsters carved on the door. “Don’t associate Map or yourself with those creatures on the Door.”
“Oh, my darling.” His master moved his fingers across his hair, touching his face, as if trying to imprint the totality of Leiwell beneath them. “You bring out the best in both of us, but don’t assume you know anything about what we associate with.”
The boy shuddered at the chill in his master’s touch, shuddered at the coldness of his face. The pale pink reflection of rage glittered in his irises, showing images of angry girls waving torches, their faces disorted in anger.
A cool breeze seemed to bring the faintest sound of screams. “Freak! Halfling!”
“Freak.” A low, earthy voice, almost as gravelly as Map’s echoed the breeze’s sentiment. “Halfling.”
One of the carvings writhing in the wall moved. A foot, a leg stepped out of it, followed by a swishing skirt. For a terrified moment, Leiwell feared one of the angry girls had materialized in this room. She moved out of the door, which had to be a Door, a portal between worlds. Full, red hair tumbled over her shoulders and arms as the strange woman turned to regard them.
He released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when he realized this strange woman had only two arms. Not four, six, or worse of all, eight.
“I’ve found you.” The strange woman narrowed sharp, hazel eyes at his master. “Release my sister.” She balled her callused hands into fists. “Give Megan back to me.”
To be continued...
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