Rebirth of a Fey Lord

The quiet of Lord Dubhan's private study enveloped the room like a thick cloak. Shadows clung to the walls as the flickering oil lamp on the desk cast uneven light, making the space feel intimate and imposing. The scent of parchment and ink lingered in the air, a familiar presence for Eogan. He had often sought counsel in this room, though the roles would reverse tonight.

He stood at the door, fingers brushing the brass handle as a tight knot of uncertainty twisted in his stomach. Dressed in his day clothes, he took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to reveal. His heart thudded in his chest, echoing in his ears.

After a brief moment, he knocked softly, the sound barely more than a whisper against the heavy wood.

"Enter," came his father's voice, calm and measured, as always.

Eogan stepped into the room, deliberately closing the door behind him. He met his father's gaze—Lord Dubhan, always composed, his face half-shadowed as he sat behind his desk, poring over a stack of papers. The flickering lamplight revealed his weathered features, a man of few words but significant presence.

Eogan stood a moment in silence, gathering his thoughts before speaking. The weight of the moment was palpable.

"Father, may I speak with you privately about something important?"

Lord Dubhan set the papers aside, his eyes narrowing slightly in curiosity. His voice was steady, but there was an unspoken understanding in his tone as he gestured for Eogan to continue.

"Of course, Eogan," he said, setting the papers aside. "What is troubling you?"

The door clicked shut behind him, ensuring no one would interrupt.

Eogan took a slow breath, choosing his words carefully. "Lately, I've been... experiencing dreams. Or rather, memories. They're vivid—too vivid to ignore." He hesitated, watching his father's reaction. "They don't belong to me. Or rather, they don't belong to the person I am now."

Lord Dubhan's expression remained unreadable, though his eyes slightly sharpened. Eogan pressed on.

"I can't explain it fully, but these memories... they feel too real. As if they are fragments of a life that's not mine, yet somehow, it is. There's a connection to something ancient, something I cannot fully grasp."

His father's gaze softened, but the silence stretched between them. Dubhan's voice broke through the quiet, his tone measured.

"How long have you been feeling this way?"

Eogan searched his father's face for a sign of disbelief but found none. Dubhan was listening—genuinely listening.

"Several weeks now. It's been growing stronger, more persistent." Eogan ran a hand through his hair, the uncertainty still thick in his chest. "I believe it may have something to do with my mana. The magic within me feels... different as if it resonates with these memories."

Lord Dubhan leaned forward slightly, his expression more intense now. "Do you believe these memories are a result of your mana?" His tone was cautious, probing.

"I'm not sure," Eogan admitted. "But there's a part of me that thinks they're intertwined. The magic inside me is the key to understanding what's happening."

Dubhan's features softened just a fraction for the first time in their conversation. It was not a smile but a flicker of understanding—a rare moment of fatherly recognition.

Eogan's heart raced, but he continued, feeling the weight of his words building. "There's more," he said, his voice steady. He reached out, and with a barely perceptible shift in the air, Leanan appeared—her form materializing in a soft swirl of green light.

Lord Dubhan's eyes widened as the sprite took shape, landing gently on Eogan's shoulder. The sight of her—small, ethereal, and undeniably alive—was enough to leave even the most hardened men in awe.

"This is Leanan," Eogan said quietly. "She is the sprite I've tamed. We share a bond that has helped me understand my abilities and these memories."

The air in the room seemed to thicken, the weight of his words settling over them both. Lord Dubhan's expression flickered between shock and suspicion.

"You've tamed a sprite?" His voice was low, almost a growl. "You realize the implications of such a bond, don't you? Taming a creature like that is illegal. It is forbidden by the kingdom's laws."

Eogan's breath caught in his throat, but he stood firm. "I did not force her. She agreed to it. Leanan has been invaluable to me. She has shown me things—memories—things that help me understand my past."

Lord Dubhan's gaze hardened. "This is dangerous, Eogan. If anyone discovers this bond..." He trailed off as if the danger were too great to articulate. His eyes flickered with something deeper now—perhaps fear or the instinctive protectiveness of a father who saw his child on the verge of something perilous.

Eogan's resolve stiffened. "Father, there's more I need to tell you." He glanced at Leanan, then back to his father. "I was not always... me. I remember being someone else—someone from a time long before this one."

He took a deep breath before continuing. "I was a fey lord, a being of ancient magic. My people were betrayed and destroyed. I was reborn—reborn as Eogan. These memories... they are fragments of that life. I am still the same, but I am also... more."

Lord Dubhan's face paled. His entire posture shifted as if a sudden realization had struck him like a blow. His voice caught, the deep bass rumbling with both disbelief and concern. "A fey lord?" He stepped back, putting a hand on the edge of his desk for balance. "You are telling me that you—"

Eogan's voice was firm, even in the face of his father's visible shock. "Yes, Father. I was one of them. But I am not that person anymore."

Dubhan's breath was uneven. His brows furrowed deeply, and the calm, controlled façade he had worn for years seemed to falter for the first time. He paced slowly, one hand rubbing his chin as if trying to steady himself.

His voice dropped to a whisper, more to himself than Eogan: "A fey lord... My son..."

There was no anger, no immediate accusation, just a deep, throbbing sense of bewilderment. The world as he knew it seemed to have shifted, leaving him grappling with a truth that was both impossible and undeniable.

Eogan spoke again, breaking the silence. "I also wanted to tell you about Lorcan. He has a bond of his own with a young imp. I believe it is important for you to understand. Lorcan is my ally; His bond with Neala is just as important to me as my bond with Leanan is. I request that you allow him to come with me to the Academy. As my servant."

Lord Dubhan froze. His face went taut, his eyes narrowing in conflicting emotions. His lips pressed into a thin line, then parted as though he might speak but couldn't find the words.

"An imp?" His voice trembled with an edge of disbelief. "A bond with an imp?" His hands balled into fists, and his face reddened with the gravity of it all. "Eogan, this is madness. Do you not understand the consequences? Both of you—your bonds, their discovery—could bring ruin."

Eogan met his father's gaze, unwavering. "I understand the risks. But these bonds are part of who we are. Lorcan and I share a trust that cannot be broken. He is invaluable to me."

Dubhan's reaction was a fierce mixture of protective instinct and parental fear. "And what of the kingdom? What of the laws? You risk everything for this—your life, Lorcan's life, our family's legacy." His voice faltered as if the weight of what his son asked him to accept had become too much to bear. "Are you prepared to bear that weight?"

Eogan's response was firm. "I am. The bonds are not a tool, Father. They are part of my identity. I will not abandon them. Nor will I abandon Lorcan. We are a team."

Lord Dubhan's eyes closed for a long moment, his jaw clenched. He stood silently, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Finally, he opened his eyes, his expression solemn and heavy, realizing what had just been shared.

"Very well," he said, his voice low but unwavering. "I will support your decision to attend the Academy. And Lorcan may accompany you as your servant, though I do so with great reservation. You must keep these bonds a secret, Eogan. The dangers are too great otherwise."

His hand moved to Eogan's shoulder, firm but not without a trace of pride. "Promise me that you will remain vigilant. Trust is a rare commodity in the capital."

Eogan nodded, feeling the weight of his father's words settle over him.

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Later, after Eogan returned to his room, the night felt heavier, filled with the weight of what had been revealed. The conversation with his father echoed in his mind, both a relief and a burden.

He sat by the window, the soft glow of moonlight spilling across the garden below. Leanan hovered nearby, her green light flickering like a firefly in the room's stillness.

Leanan spoke softly. "Why did you not tell him everything, Master?"

Eogan sighed, his fingers tracing the cool windowpane. "I withheld one thing. I didn't tell him who I truly was—Fergus Mor. I couldn't risk it. He's already grappling with so much. If he knew... I fear he would see me as a threat, not as his son."

Leanan perched on his shoulder, her voice gentle. "You made the right choice. When the time comes, he will understand. But not yet. He's not ready."

Eogan nodded, feeling a strange mix of relief and apprehension. The future was uncertain, but he was determined to face it with Leanan at his side and the secrets of his past still locked away.

The chapter closed as Eogan stared into the night, his resolve steeled and his past still concealed in the shadows.