It was through sheer force of will and luck that she'd escaped with the boy in her arms. He cried against her breast out of confusion and fear, but mostly habit, and she tried to calm him. Don't cry, please don't cry, Mother won't let anything happen to you, don't cry. By nightfall she'd reached the outskirts of Nevassa and the baby finally slept.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "It was my poor judgment that brought you to this world, but as long as I live you'll be the only good thing he ever gave to me." She stroked his pale cheek. "We'll be okay, Soren."

-x-

Soren grew, quiet and serious yet inquisitive. The first time he ever saw a book he knew he wanted one of his own, so she taught him to read. He soon grew bored with the traditional fairytales and wanted to learn more complicated stories. One day she discovered he had the gift of magic, and found an old sage willing to teach the boy only to regret it when the man turned out to be harsh and struck Soren on more than one occasion. She sent him away and from then on, she was his only teacher.

"You're different from others," she eventually told him. "And because of this...the world won't be kind to you. I wish I could tell you otherwise. But you'll always have me."

Soren only nodded. He was seven years old, and already he had the severity of a man decades older.

-x-

When Soren was eleven, Almedha brought home a surprise. A scruffy, sniffling little blue-haired child she'd found cowering under a tree outside the orphanage.

"His name is Pelleas," she said, "and he will be your brother."

"Hi..." The child reached out a hand to Soren, who inspected it for several moments before taking it.

"Hello. My name is Soren and I'm your older brother. So I suppose this means I must protect you."

-x-

The boys didn't bond as Almedha had hoped. They never fought, but they weren't exactly close either. Pelleas was always lost in his stories and fairytales, while Soren was lost in his research and magic studies. Soren did protect Pelleas from those who wished to harm him, but only out of obligation.

They were similar, yet different in those similarities. They were intelligent, but preferred different fields of study. Both weren't very good with people, but while the shy and awkward Pelleas wished to improve the well-spoken Soren did not care to get involved further than necessary.

And try as she may, Almedha found she could not completely protect her boys from Soren's lineage. People on the street shot dirty looks at him, treated him as if he shouldn't exist, called him names. Soren pretended he didn't care, but inside she knew it was hurting him deeply. Trying to ease the pain, Pelleas admitted to being a Spirit Charmer, mistaken for Branded at times.

"At least Spirit Charmers have the right to exist," Soren said coldly. He was thirteen, Pelleas was twelve, and Almedha knew the day would soon come where she could no longer shield them.

-x-

One day, they came across a tall, burly man with two children. A smiling little girl and a bright-eyed, intense-looking boy. Pelleas shrank back and hid behind her, while Soren pretended to be fascinated by a stone that lay at his feet.

"Hey!" the man called to her. "My name's Greil. This here's my little girl Mist, and my boy Ike's over there looking at the swords."

While Mist rushed to make friends with the "pretty lady" and Greil tried to coax Pelleas out of his shell, Ike turned away from the sword display and approached Soren.

"Hi," he said, holding out a hand. "Let's be friends."

It was the first time Almedha had ever seen Soren smile.