Makings of a Monster

- "It was a stony and cold place. There were no windows. It was always dark, only candlelight. Sometimes they let me out in the yard, but the trees were just black, dry twigs. I remember trying to watch the sun through them. It was there, but it looked very high and pale. And it was dry and barren, like a landscape where there is no hope and nothing will ever grow again."
- "Did anyone tend to you? You must have been fed and whatever you have to do to babies."
- "I guess. I do remember them giving me food. They didn't even look at me, just fed me like I was a pig or something."
- "Did anyone hold you, talk to you? Caress you, that kind of thing."
- "Oh no. Though I remember wishing that someone would have." A single tear rolled on his cheek while he recalled, his eyelids closed, his limbs stretched and relaxed.
- "I wonder where such a wish comes from," the boy continued, "as there was nothing like that. They didn't hold anyone else either. They let the babies drink milk from their breasts, but even then they were like the babies disgusted them, or they were just some sort of... tools. Not little people. They chanted, and their eyes burned so. I remember it. I have never seen a cleric with such burning eyes."

- "You said that you had had the frightening dreams all the time. They didn't do anything about it?"
- "No. First I cried, but no one ever came. There were so many children that someone always was crying. I think they didn't go to anyone else either. So then I just stopped crying. What would have been the point?"
- "A sect of fanatical clerics, mostly female, storing a lot of very young children in apparently a secret location. Apparently motherly caring was not part of their credo. So what happened then? You remember these things, you must have been old enough to walk and talk some."

Sarevok started to pale and shake, the blood draining even from his lips. Winski took the boys hand and tried to hold it in a comforting manner, but he was too deep in the memory to find any comfort.
- "A... aaah... I can't remember. I can't!"
Oh, but you can. You just don't want to.
- "Sarevok, love. I know this is hard, though I have no idea how hard. Please try to remember. It is important."
The coy curled involuntarily into fetal position, rocking himself, willing the outer world away. Even then he tried so hard to please his tutor. Well, I certainly am closer to a father to him than Reiltar is, though Winski.
- "They... they started killing the children. I saw as their heads rolled away and I could smell the blood so strong, so strong, stronger than I ever have in battle... and the presence was really there. I mean, it was approaching, it was really outside there not like just channeling through me like in battle. And when it struck me that they would kill me too..." his voice was just an open bawl now, like an animal in pain and woe. He tried to make sense, to continue, but the shaking and the power of the memory made it impossible.
- "And with your nature, I suspect, you immediately started thinking of how to escape," Winski tried to help.
- "Yes but there wasn't a way! There simply wasn't! There were no windows and it was all solid, slimy rock and the doors were barred! There was no place to hide and they were so many and they had all the spells and all the babies they had already killed..." the boy shouted, despair in his golden eyes.
Oh gods. He feels guilty about it. He barely could walk, and he actually feels guilty about that he couldn't think of a way to save himself from an army of psychotic, high-ranking, child-murdering clerics.
- "Sar, little. I understand perfectly that there was no chance. But yet you live. So what happened?" asked Winski in his mildest, kindest voice.

- "Some people came there. There was a battle. Lots of magic," Sarevok explained in drained voice. "And I had grabbed just one baby, the one that happened to be nearest me and tried to escape with it, when a man came to us. It was like he was seeking this special baby, though the people were trying to save as many as they could. And he tried to take me too, he held my hand and took the baby, but then the whole temple was collapsing and they were fleeing and the clerics started to win... and his hand slipped and I fell and he left... he left me behind... he left me behind... he left me behind..."

Now Sarevok was just wailing and rocking himself, repeating the sentence again and again. He may have been 14 years old, beautiful to watch and almost a man, but now he was nothing but a little, abandoned child. Winski embraced him in profound sorrow and just let him weep. This first betrayal, however necessary from the point of view of the stranger, had marked Sarevok's whole psyche and life. He trusted no-one, he could not get enough of Jelena's unconditional love and still, beneath, he always feared losing it. I hope he believes in my love. What could take it away? Nothing I could imagine.

There was still the question as to how the boy had escaped the temple. But knowing how resourceful the child was even when very small, it probably was just that he quickly had taken the opportunity of the chaos. No, what was important was that what was the purpose of this ritual and who were the strangers who interrupted it. And of course, regarding the wounds of Sarevok's psyche, his first memory being the horror of someone powerful wanting to kill him, and someone other leaving him behind to die.