In many, many ways Loren knew he was just a shadow of his former self. And he honestly wasn’t sure that he wanted to go back to the old version of himself, if he even remembered who that was. Sometimes, it seemed that there’d never be a real Loren, simply a series of masks he’d put on and discarded for fear of being rejected again. It had happened too many times, and far more than one time too many for him not to worry about that.
But something he did miss was training both his mind and body. While he’d never been particular good at it—and his magic had been so weak he’d been tortured for it—it filled some need deep within him. The moment he’d cast a spell, Loren remembered the pure joy of it. But there were other darker emotions lurking within his gaunt frame, ones that needed an outlet other than magic.
So, while he’d have dearly loved to have done nothing more than meditate and practice his spell-casting (especially his summoning, which is the only art he’d ever really mastered), instead he found himself out in the woods, staff in hand, swinging it wildly and clearly without much skill. But there was a visceral joy in it: as he swept the ends at the tree leaves, knocking them from their branches. As they fluttered to the ground he made a point to grind them under his boots.
It satisfied a hunger he’d been feeling ever since coming back. Or maybe, if he was being honest, even before then. While Loren had always been the least violent member of his family, he couldn’t deny that he too sometimes felt the destructive urges of the Launceleyns. So he was trying to work them out in the least problematic way possible. Many members of his family never learned to do that, but he was trying not to emulate them.
The hubris of his ancestors and kin had caused the downfall of too many. So, though Loren had already made so many mistakes, he refused to make that one as well.
Although he’d come out to the woods, he’d forgotten just how populated the Hollowed Grounds had become. Seeing as he’d been used to staying at the outskirts, he was still getting used to the new and improved area. These woodlands—which, granted, were rather out of the way—were still fairly well traveled, especially now that the dome had fallen.
All that was to say that he probably should’ve been expecting someone to stumble upon him, but he was so caught up in engaging with another imaginary foe that he wasn’t paying attention to much else. LOREN Brought back by satisfaction more times than the cat
|
