[Flashback] Prelude to madness

[Erik Vrell]

The young psychic, one of many in the orphanage hall, spooned the thin gruel that they called food into his mouth. The off-white paste was watery and flavourless, but filled the child’s stomach. He wasn't sure if he could stomach real food, anyway. He still struggled to recall the last few days without breaking into a fit of tears. Not that anyone expected a four year old to recover from almost being burnt alive so quickly. Erik’s eyes snapped up as there was a knock at the door. The orphanages matron, a kindly old woman that the children called ‘Grandma Siv’, answered the door. A look of shock crossed her face as her gaze met whoever had knocked, and she moved back to let them in quickly. 

“Elder Magnus, Lady Ingrid, I'm sorry, I wasn't prepared for your arrival.” The matron said as she self-consciously checked over her unkempt robes. 

A couple entered the room, dropping the room into silence, only broken by the chewing of the oblivious children, unaware of exactly who had just walked into the room. The man was heavily built, his muscles visible even through his royal blue robes, and at least six foot tall. His scarred, menacing face was set into a hard expression, his long, blonde beard doing nothing to alleviate his intimidating aura. Erik wondered why Grandma Siv called him ‘elder’ when she was clearly older than him. The woman he was with was much gentler in appearance. She had a thin, willowy look to her, but also carried an air of elegance. Her light blue eyes and long, brown hair reminded Erik of himself and, choking back a sob at the thought, his mother. 

“I was told that a new child was rescued just a few days ago, another blessed with the gift.” The man’s voice was just as harsh as his appearance, rough like he had swallowed a mouthful of gravel. 

“It's true.” Grandma Siv said with a hesitant nod. “Three being born in a lifetime, let alone within five years. What do you make of it, elder?”

The man was silent for a moment.

“I don't know. I'll have to discuss this the other elders, this is more than a simple gift from Father Gal’skap. That aside, may I see the child?” 

“Of course.” Grandma Siv said with another nod. The old woman scanned the meal hall for someone, before her gaze fell on Erik. For a moment the boy thought he was going to be scolded for eavesdropping, but to his surprise, Grandma Siv led the couple over to where he was eating. 

“Erik, this is Elder Magnus and Lady Ingrid.” The matron said gently. 

“Hello.” Erik said quietly, unsure of what was happening.

“Hello, Erik.” Magnus said, trying unsuccessfully to appear a little less terrifying. “Siv tells me that you have a special talent. Could you show me?”

A sinking feeling stabbed into the pit of Erik’s stomach. The last time he had used his ‘talent’ he was almost burned alive. The boy looked down and shook his head.

“I don't have anything like that.” He whispered, barely audible over the chatter of the hall. “You don't need to burn me.” 

Magnus shot a confused look at Grandma Siv, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“The village we rescued him from tried to burn him at the stake for showing his gift.” She said, eliciting a choked sob from the young Erik. Magnus’s face twisted into a mask of disgust.

“Backwards, heathenous animals.” He spat under his breath, once again failing to avoid intimidating the boy. Erik wiped away tears and looked up as he felt a hand on his shoulder. He found himself face to face with the woman Grandma Siv called Ingrid. She looked at him gently and beamed a warm smile at him.

“It's ok,” She whispered reassuringly. “You're safe here. Can you show us what you can do, please?” Her words seemed to out Erik’s soul at ease, calming the boiling storm of emotions in his stomach. Drying the last of his tears, Erik nodded and focused on the spoon he had been eating with. The boy felt something move inside him, something he had only felt a few times before, like a muscle in his mind, and the spoon lifted itself off the table. The feeling of using the mental muscle again was surprisingly pleasant, like stretching after sitting down for a long time, and Erik found himself unconsciously lifting the chair he was sitting. Alarmed, Erik placed himself and the spoon back onto the ground, hoping that they wouldn't think he was unnatural, just like his village.

“That's what I can do.” He said quietly, unsure of whether he should be making or avoiding eye contact, choosing to switch between the two every couple of seconds. The Elder and his wife exchanged glances for a moment, before sharing a silent nod. Magnus gently placed a heavy hand on Erik’s shoulder.

“I know you're still hurt about the last few days, but how would you like to come live with us, and another two children just like you?” The elder said, doing a little better to assure Erik he was safe.

“Like me?” Erik parroted. There were more kids like him? That meant that he'd be safe there…He didn't have any family to go back to anyway, other than the one who had tried, and succeeded, to get rid of him. “Yes, I would like that.” 

The couple smiled widely at the young psychic. “Fantastic. From this day forward, your name shall be Erik Vrell. Come on, then. We have a long way to go to get home.”

Erik Vrell. The boy liked the sound of that. Ingrid beamed down at him as she took his hand and lead him out of the orphanage. 

“You're going to love living with us.” She said quietly. In contrast to her loud, rough husband, Erik noted that everything she did seemed gentle and reserved. “This is the first day of the happiest time of your life.”