Screams in the darkness, footsteps closing in. Pain, so much pain. Standing up again, breathing hurts. A desperate run in no direction, trees a mere blur. Another fall, legs not answering, voices closer, closer…

He sat up abruptly, a scream choked in his throat, familiar terror clasping at his heart. He looked around, trying to focus. Everything was blurry, making him fell so dizzy. Afraid he closed his eyes and hugged himself, trying to slow his breath, gain back his senses.

“Master?” An unknown voice slid through his panic. He froze. Someone was just beside him, someone that smelled human, with the soft scent of soap and musk. Warm hands pushed him gently back in what now he assumed was a bed, a huge and comfortable bed.

“It’s all right, Master, you were just having a nightmare.” The voice sounded gentle, concerned. He felt his body relaxing and exhaustion and hunger making their appearance. Yet his mind was still on edge, unable to relax as his eyes opened.

The eyes that meet his gaze had the dark blue of the ocean within them, and, inside curiosity and worry mingled. They weren’t menacing. He didn’t seem menacing.

“Who are you?” he asked cautiously, surprised to hear his voice under control again. “Where am I?”

“You are at the Palace of Keys, Master. I’m the Runic Key.”

“The what?!” he sat up abruptly ignoring the surprise of the other man, looking around frantically. “Can’t be! This isn’t…!” But of course it could be, he realised, his tongue freezing as memories came back slowly. He had to keep a bitter smile off his face. His Master may have burn down the Palace, but only an idiot would assume that damaging a building would be the end of a place older than time itself. So this could very well be the Runic Key’s room, the rebuilt version.

How long had it been? When had he lost track of time? One of his hands touched the key still hanging from his neck. He doubted his old relic actually opened the new door, but still the design might approach the new one enough to make the Palace’s employers doubt. Knowing the place’s policy they probably didn’t give a damn as long as he paid before leaving. They had a problem then.

How the hell had his desperate run got him precisely here? How could those humans have known where he hid? How to hurt him? There had to be something else to all of it - a trap. Perhaps his Master had finally found him…. His blood froze, terror crawling its way back into his mind. But, it couldn’t be! He saw them killing his Master!! And yet, didn’t he say that even with silver it was not easy to kill an old one? What if he survived? What if this was a wicked plan to recover his slave and teach him a lesson? What if others…?

“Master! Are you all right?” The concerned tone of the Key and the sudden grip on his shoulders pulled him abruptly out of Paranoia Land, and well into Puzzlement State as he noticed the tattoos on each cheek. Fehu and Othalaz, the first and the last runes, both of them referred to wealth one way or another. Together they formed a symbol of material benefits. Yet it meant reward as well, the achievement of something one fights for. The hole in his soul created by loneliness seemed to widen and tears started to form in his eyes. Shaking his head, he looked down, angry at himself for his stupid illusions. His gaze fell on the chain connecting the Key’s nipples, formed by so many linked dahaz runes. The slow and constant growth symbol, one that also indicated a radical change, even the exposure to a new lifestyle or way of thought. The boy’s right hand moved almost on his own accord, taking the small links between his fingers.

“Master?” This time the voice was puzzled, even a little afraid. It made him smile weakly, withdrawing his hand so that the other man wouldn’t notice the burns that he knew the contact with silver had caused.

“You probably think I’m nuts, don’t you?” he remarked, mildly curious, lifting his head up to gaze at the piercing blue eyes.

Lodan blinked in surprise: after his close examination of his strange master´s reactions, the last thing he expected was a rather normal phrase. And yet, the black coloured gaze seemed to hold only curiosity now. Extremely odd since only a minute ago he was on the verge of a panic attack.

“Of course not, Master, I was simply concerned about the state of your wounds. Poison can be tricky.”

“Can it? Thanks for worrying.” A smile danced briefly on the Master’s lips and his left hand rose to play with a strand of his black-blue hair. The colour reminded Lodan of a raven’s wing, which was odd since there was a light accent in his voice that suggested Northern lands. Coming to think of it, why was he hiding the right hand from view?

The expression turned solemn under his gaze and the boy tilted is head to the side. “I did not ask your name, did I? How rude of me. Yet, if I do not have one to offer in return, it would be impolite.” He seemed to think about the concept for a minute before adding, “I would like you to call me Nightshade if you want. Could you tell me your name please?”

“Lodan, Master.”

The boy blinked, tensing. “In which year are we, Lodan?”

Another surprise - the Master was more peculiar that he thought. It almost appeared as if he wasn’t used to be with other humans. His reactions were just as worrying, since the boy had widened his eyes, his body tense as if expecting a blow.

“In the 4075 year by the solar calendar, Master, in the beginning of the autumn season.”

At first there was no reaction, the boy only looked back down for apparently endless minutes. Then silence was broken by a low, humourless laugh, the Master’s shoulders began shaking continuously. Concerned, Lodan gently touched his chin, lifting it to caress the face - there were tears falling from his eyes. The conflict within them was far too painful to watch.

Before he knew it, he was wiping the tears with his other hand. The boy gasped, then slowly closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. Soon there were no tears left on the face, and yet he did not stop the caresses. His fingers explored the relaxing features of his face until they stopped over the lips, where he replaced them with his own lips to plant a kiss with the delicate touch of a butterfly. A bandaged arm rose, he could feel that smaller hand resting on his waist. Reassured by this reaction the Key deepened the kiss slowly….

And the door opened with a loud bang, making the Master jump back. Nightshade tensed like a spring, a hand moving to protect his bandaged torso as his gaze pierced the intruder – a short page, precariously holding a huge tray.

Lodan tightened his lips to try suppressing the more than harsh words that threatened to spear the boy, and stood up. He took hold of the tray with a quick movement and threw a deathly glare at the young page, who did not seem to take the hint.

“Thanks, I swear that thing is heavy! Mister Kado told me to bring all this, seems wasteful to bring so much food for a sick person. When I was sick my mum….” Eventually he did catch on and the words slowly died. The page called Lil gulped and began taking hurried steps backwards, unluckily not paying attention to the ground beneath his feet. “Well, I better be going then, lots of work you kn…ouch!” With his face a deep shade of crimson, he stood, brushing his clothes hurriedly. “Happens all the time,” he mumbled before making a dash for the door, leaving it all open in the rush. Lodan closed it, ignoring the thump and yelp on the other side.

“Obnoxious little brat,” he whispered before turning to look at his Master. He was sitting, a hand resting on his torso while the fingers of the other touched his lips. Once again it was impossible to determine the feelings at war in his eyes. Lodan smiled warmly, keeping disappointment determinately off his face as he dedicated a mental curse to the Palace and its brainless workers. To his utter astonishment said fingers lowered and the mouth rose forming the shy shadow of a smile. It disappeared quickly, but it didn’t matter. The smile had been there.