An Unexpected Journey
an excerpt

In a time convoluted and disingenuous there lived a boy named Damien Erring. Erring was a respectable and erstwhile lad though many thought his name, with it's connotations towards devilry, quite fitting. With brilliant, azure eyes and decadently curled blonde hair he was a cherub, or rather incubus, of light. Pallid skin was hidden under ruffles and laces of the elite, if not for his own birthright than that of his caretakers. This man was James Roland, Lord James Roland who cherished the child as if he was a product of his own loins. Damien’s real parents had in fact been killed by a road side vagabond, something he was rather displeased of and rather elusively avoided mentioning. In fact, if given the choice, I do believe young Lord Erring would forsake his namesake entirely, for he was not a loving child, nor was he forgiving of stupidity as that is what he saw their deaths as.
Since both gentleman owned personal estates it was under frequent debate where they would stay for summers, springs and frivolous occasions. Damien rather preferred the peace and solitude of Siren Manor to Lord Roland's city mansion in East Hampshire where it was raucous and contained far too many people for his liking; who often brought it upon themselves to stop and visit. You see, all this time Lord Roland had to coerce the boy not to be a modern age recluse. He was quite keen on the idea of sitting at home all day in the bay window, staring out the warped glass at the passersby with revulsion ensconced on his delightful features; but James refused to let this stand, so frequently, against Damien's will, they went out.
When it occurred that the boy got his way to stay in the Manor alone, due to Roland's work or some such matter, he would employ his butler, Kent to watch after the lad. Erring had ever been skeptical of the man's visory qualifications due to his supposed blindness, but he'd never objected to the man's company. Oddly enough he even got along with the fellow quite nicely. Perhaps it was due to Kent's almost silent nature, his mystery with his long white hair and eyes covered with a black handkerchief always. It was quite mystifying to a lad of only twelve assimilated years.
Still, with all the intrigue and excitement of Kent there came a longing and lack of companionship without the amiable, laugh-lined Roland whose cheerful expression could lighten a room. This just made it all the harder when he told Damien that he had to be leaving to go to the War.
As shocked as Damien was, I'm sure that we must take a detour here so as I might explain this War to you, for it is not the sort that we commonly have. This war was, like most, fought because of a disagreement between two species. One thought that it should be free, this group shall be known as the Sourcerous, and they had been a creature much akin to human folk except they had neither love nor companionship. Humans were not even sure how to tell their unformed genders apart, but they did have one thing that humans did not and that was incredible intuition. With this they discovered far more than humans ever could, developing things like energy conversion and transfiguration which man called magick and even the ability to subjugate the mind, which man called illusion. With these talents the Sourcerous made a living and learning for themselves, finding ways to fit into the world and learning to develop an alliance with the unskilled things that coexisted with them. But, as man does, they wanted to learn too, and soon they began to imitate these magicks and illusions, producing horrid results. Enraged the Sourcerous decided to steal from them the one thing they could never have, their love, but it backfired tremendously, they became hungry and starved for attention, for life, and some transformed into terrible creatures, others hid themselves forever. Man took such offense that they declared never ending war on the beasts and ever since have attacked maliciously.
It is this battle that Lord Roland wishes to enter because of his noble pride and ambition, but neither of these does Damien understand and he audaciously disproves of his caretaker's decision. In a piercing hiss that is to be known as the vocalage of our small Master he rages "How dare you so selfishly throw your life away to go clash swords with them! You'll only die and leave me to recount your tale incessantly to your fellows! I’ll have none of it!"
As I've said before Lord Roland was a kind and blessed soul, so instead of striking Damien for his outburst, a much more genial punishment than most would give for a child speaking so out rightly, he took a solemn expression and bowed his head, a wave of tawny locks covering one side of his face. "You see Damien, it is out of love for you that I did not go sooner. I have a requirement as a Lord to go, and I plan on upholding that every word, but I stalled till now because I could not bear to leave you still so young alone. At least now I know you have Kent, and he shall watch over you." The aforementioned manservant stood in the doorway of the Lounge that they occupied and both a pair of fiery blues and melted browns turned to see him, like an affixed statue there suddenly bowing his head in a polite gesture. Long white hair bounced as he raised himself back up, lanky limbs looking a bit humorous in his tailored suit.
Once more meeting each other's gazes the elder man kneels down to the other's height and takes a broad and thin shoulder in his wide hand. "I'm sure everything will be fine."
But Damien turned away from him at this time, shooting one more hateful look at the one who had cared for him all his life and, charging upstairs past Kent, he did not come down for dinner. Roland stood in the Lounge for a while, gazing at the crimson draperies, the Persian rug and leathered couches, smelling that wondrous, almost musty smell of old houses and the warm cinnamon incense that filtered in from the dining room. That day should have been a wondrous Sunday noon, but it in fact it was dreary, dank and depressing.