Chapter 2: New Identity
In the dim light of dawn, Ashur's heart pounded as he hastily selected a set of clothes from a local villager's line. His movements were swift, fueled by a mix of fear and necessity. As he changed into the stolen garments, his mind raced with thoughts of pursuit and the need for a new identity.
Ashur considered his options with a sense of urgency. 'Could I leave Evershade forever? Or reveal my true self?' Each thought was quickly followed by a myriad of reasons why it wouldn't work. The fear of being hunted or ostracized loomed large. His heart ached for some semblance of belonging, drawing him back to the one place he called home – Willowbrook.
Ashur's journey back to Willowbrook was a mix of familiar sights and newfound perceptions. He noticed the smallest details – the way the morning dew reflected on the leaves, the distant chatter of the villagers starting their day. His heart pounded with a mix of fear and nostalgia as the orphanage came into view.
The Willowbrook Orphanage stood as a reminder of both stability and change. Its aged walls, cloaked in ivy, whispered stories of the countless children who had passed through its doors. The structure was imposing yet comforting, with its tall, arched windows and the large wooden door that had welcomed so many lost souls.
As Ashur stood before the orphanage, a wave of nostalgia washed over him. It was a place he knew like the back of his hand, but now it felt strangely alien. The red brick building, with its slightly chipped paint and the familiar old swing hanging from the large oak tree, seemed both a memory and a dream.
He paused, taking in the sight of the orphanage. Just a week ago, he had been another face among the orphans, lost in the mundanity of his daily life. Now, as he returned, transformed and hiding behind the guise of 'Elian', the orphanage felt like a bridge between his past and an uncertain future. The sense of familiarity was comforting, but the knowledge that everything had changed was disorienting.
The laughter of children playing in the yard reached his ears, a sound that was both heartwarming and poignant. Ashur took a deep breath, steeling himself for the next step. With each step forward, he left a part of himself behind, stepping into a new world where he was a stranger, yet ironically, closer to home than ever before.
Upon Ashur's entry into the orphanage, a small girl, about seven years old, approached him. She was petite, with bright blue eyes that sparkled with curiosity. Her hair was a cascade of golden curls that framed her face, giving her an angelic appearance.
"Who are you?" she asked innocently, her head tilting to one side. Her voice was soft, yet clear in the morning quiet of the orphanage.
"I'm Elian," Ashur replied.
"I'm Lila," she introduced herself with a shy smile. "Are you going to stay with us?"
"Yes, I am," Ashur answered, crouching down to her level. "I'm new here."
Lila's eyes widened. "Did you come from far away?".
"Quite far," Ashur said, his heart warming to her childlike wonder. "But I'm here now."
Lila nodded, accepting this simple explanation. "Well, I hope you like it here. We have a big tree in the yard, and I like to play there. You can join if you want."
"Thank you, Lila. Maybe I will," Ashur said.
Whispers filled the room as the children eyed him, a blend of suspicion and intrigue in their gazes.
"I need to speak with Headmaster Grimsby," Ashur said to the nearest caretaker.
The caretaker, Mrs. Marlowe, was a middle-aged woman with kind, hazel eyes that seemed to hold a lifetime of stories. Her hair was a soft shade of gray, tied back in a practical bun. She wore a simple apron over her dress, indicative of her hands-on approach in the orphanage.
"Elian, is it?" Mrs. Marlowe asked. "I'm Mrs. Marlowe, one of the caretakers here. How can I assist you?"
"I need to speak with Headmaster Grimsby," Ashur said, trying to mask the nervousness in his voice.
"Of course, dear. Follow me, he's in his office," she replied, her tone warm and motherly. As they walked, she glanced at him with a mixture of curiosity and concern.
"You look a bit overwhelmed. First days can be hard, but you'll find your place here," she reassured him with a comforting smile.
"Thank you, Mrs. Marlowe," Ashur responded.
As they reached the headmaster's door, Mrs. Marlowe offered Ashur an encouraging nod. "Headmaster Grimsby is a good man. He'll take good care of you," she said while knocking on the door.
"Thank you".
As she left, he took a deep breath, preparing to meet the headmaster and to step further into his new life as 'Elian'.
Headmaster Grimsby was a man marked by time, his face etched with lines of wisdom and eyes that held a depth of understanding. His once-black hair now gray, he carried himself with a quiet dignity. His voice, when he spoke, was both commanding and gentle, a reflection of his years of experience.
Grimsby's past was as colourful as it was tumultuous. Once a celebrated Royal magician, his life at court was filled with intrigue and power. But disillusionment with the court's machinations led him to seek a simpler life. His return to Evershade and the establishment of Willowbrook Orphanage was his way of finding peace and purpose, a sanctuary for those lost in life's shadows.
As 'Elian' entered, Headmaster Grimsby's eyes narrowed slightly, taking in the boy's well-built stature that seemed incongruent with his youthful face.
"You seem quite sturdy for a young man," Grimsby remarked gently.
"What's your name, young man?" Grimsby asked, leaning forward slightly.
"Elian, sir," Ashur replied, the name feeling foreign on his tongue.
"And where did you use to live before coming here?"
"I lived in a small village to the north. It's quite remote, sir," Ashur said, hoping his vagueness would suffice.
"How did you come to know about Willowbrook Orphanage?"
Ashur paused, crafting his response carefully. "A traveling merchant mentioned it, sir. He said it was a place where a child without a family could find shelter."
Grimsby nodded thoughtfully. "I see. And what about your parents? What were their professions?"
"They were explorers, sir. They travelled a lot, seeking new lands and discoveries".
Grimsby's gaze lingered on Ashur for a moment. "Explorers, you say. That must have been quite an adventurous life for them."
"Yes, sir. It was," Ashur agreed, feeling a twinge of guilt for the fabricated tale.
Grimsby leaned back in his chair, his expression softening. "Well, Elian, we are here to provide you with the care and support you need. You are safe now."
"Thank you, sir," Ashur said, a mix of relief and apprehension settling in his chest.
As Elian left the room, Headmaster Grimsby sat back in his chair, his mind swirling with thoughts. His years as a magician had honed his ability to discern truth from lies. It was clear to him that Elian was hiding something; the boy's eyes, though earnest, held a flicker of deceit.
Although, beyond the veil of lies, Grimsby sensed a gentle soul. There was an innocence in Elian's demeanour, a kind of sincerity that couldn't be faked. This intuition, coupled with his natural compassion, compelled Grimsby to offer the boy a safe heaven, at least for the time being.
Grimsby's thoughts then drifted to Ashur, the orphan who had mysteriously disappeared a week ago. Ashur had been a quiet, introspective child, often lost in his own world. The contrast between Ashur's frailty and Elian's robust appearance was stark, yet something in Grimsby's heart stirred a strange connection.
The more Grimsby pondered, the more he was drawn to their eyes. Ashur's eyes had always been filled with a silent, burning will, a feature that had somehow echoed in Elian's gaze. It was an improbable thought, yet Grimsby couldn't shake off the feeling that there was more to Elian than met the eye.
He rose from his chair, gazing out the window at the children playing in the yard. 'Time will tell,' he thought. 'If there's more to this boy's story, it will eventually come to light.
This will be your bed, Elian," Mrs. Marlowe said, gesturing to a bed by the window, its sheets neatly made. Unbeknownst to her, she had led 'Elian' to the very bed that Ashur had once called his own.
As 'Elian' settled in, Mrs. Marlowe's eyes lingered on the bed for a moment longer. "You know, this bed used to belong to another boy, Ashur. He was quite a dreamer, that one," she started, her voice tinged with nostalgia.
"Ashur wanted to be a knight, believe it or not. He was always so full of hopes and stories about brave adventures."
"He was a slender boy, much smaller than you, with the most striking green eyes. But he was fragile, always the last to finish his chores, never complaining," she described her gaze distant as she recalled.
"His character, oh! He was gentle, always thoughtful and kind to the other children. But there was a fire in him, a quiet strength that made you believe he would achieve his dreams one day."
'Elian' listened, his heart pounding. It was surreal to hear about himself from another's perspective. He managed a small smile, "Sounds like he was a good person."
"He was, Elian. We all miss him dearly. It's a mystery what happened to him," she said with a sigh, her expression turning somber.
As Mrs. Marlowe spoke, there was a fleeting moment where their eyes met, and for a second, it seemed like she saw something familiar in 'Elian's' gaze. But then she blinked, and the moment passed. "Well, you should get some rest. Big day tomorrow!" and she left the room.
'Elian' lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, lost in thoughts about his past, present, and the uncanny twist of fate that brought him back here.
After a while, as 'Elian' entered the common area, Draven's eyes immediately fell on him. He assessed the new arrival with a scrutinizing gaze, taking in his sturdy build and unfamiliar face.
The boy who once bullied Ashur was named Draven. He stood with his 1.60 meters, quite tall for his age of 13. His broad shoulders and stocky build gave him a commanding presence among the other orphans. His hair was a dark, unkempt mop that fell haphazardly over his forehead, and his eyes were a steely gray, often narrowed in a look of defiance or contempt.
Draven was known for his brash and aggressive behavior. He wielded his physical advantage not only to assert dominance but also to mask his own insecurities. Despite his tough exterior, there was an underlying need to be recognized and feared, a trait that often led him to target those weaker than him.
Draven approached 'Elian', his height making him loom over most children in the room. "So, you're the new kid?" he said, his voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and challenge. "Elian, is it? Never seen you around before."
Draven circled around 'Elian', sizing him up. "You look strong. Not like some of the weaklings here," he remarked, a slight sneer forming on his lips. "Just remember, I'm in charge around here."
'Elian' met Draven's gaze steadily, feeling a surge of old emotions mixed with the need to maintain his new identity. "I'm not here to cause trouble," he responded calmly, trying to defuse the situation.
Draven grunted, giving 'Elian' one last probing look before moving away. "We'll see about that," he muttered under his breath.
As 'Elian' walked through the corridors of Willowbrook Orphanage, he could feel the weight of curious gazes upon him. His arrival had stirred an air of intrigue among the children and staff alike. His robust stature, so at odds with the frail frames of many orphans, made him stand out.
'Elian' carried himself with an unintentional confidence. His height, 1.62 m, and well-built frame were uncommon for someone his alleged age. The dark hair, now a deep, almost midnight black, and the vivid blue eyes with striking red stripes, gave him an enigmatic vibe. This new appearance, so different from Ashur's former fragile demeanour, drew whispers and speculation.
Children would pause in their play to glance at him, and the caretakers exchanged curious looks. Draven observed him with a hint of wariness, unaccustomed to someone who might challenge his dominance.
Standing in the middle of the orphanage's main hall, 'Elian' was a mixture of strength and vulnerability. His muscular arms, a stark contrast to his previous delicate form, were not lost on those who remembered Ashur. Yet, there was a gentleness in his eyes, a remnant of the boy who once dreamed of knighthood.
As the day wound down, 'Elian' found himself alone in the bed that used to be his, staring at the ceiling. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts – the day's events, the faces of the children, and Draven's challenging gaze. He knew that the next day would bring its own set of challenges: lessons, chores, and further scrutiny. But he felt ready, or as ready as he could be, for whatever lay ahead. The night was quiet, a stark contrast to the turmoil within, as he closed his eyes, preparing for the life of 'Elian' at Willowbrook Orphanage.
Weekly Power Status
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