Rezo praised his ability, but Zelgadis’ energy was drained like water wrung from a sponge.
He’d collapsed during training, pushing himself hard. Refusing to stop even when every nerve in his body said to rest.
He had to be stronger. To be the greatest magician. The greatest swordsman. To serve and protect his grandfather.
Zel could barely keep his eyes open. He was fighting a losing battle to stay awake in Rezo’s arms as his grandfather started to hum a familiar melody.
Had his mother hummed it? Had Rezo hummed it to her long ago?
It made Zelgadis feel safe.