Arrow Lake all these in-betweens that bar my youth

The words from the gargoyle meant very little to him. The child listened, nonetheless, so that he might understand one day – even if it was not that day. There was a comfort to be found in the stoic man’s gruff voice. There was a peacefulness in the calculating glint of his lilac gaze. Trench was not too young that his words should have been unfamiliar, but the dark young child could not grasp the concept of having more family than what he knew. The other children within Diaspora were a complete mystery to him. Even as Mahler spoke their names, Trench could only peer upward at the large stone-furred man and wonder.
 
Uncertain if Mahler was attempting to rename the young boy, Trench shook his head slowly and his dark lips were swept upward into a disarming smile. “Trench,” he reminded his kind guardian. Though the names that had been spoken were strong in their own right, the shadow knew his calling well. It was best that his name not be forgotten.