“The festival of ghosts will be different this year…I think.” Khalik poured himself a third cup of wine before sliding the pitcher back across the table.

“Thanks, man,” Alex said, picking it up and pouring himself a second cup. It was a bit of a struggle with one arm in a sling, but he’d rather help himself as much as he could. He was also glad he could call on his Wizard’s Hands when he needed them. For a moment, the moon peaked out from behind dark clouds above them and shone across the jug’s polished surface, reflecting off the table. “Yeah, I think we’ll feel it even more than last year. There’s gonna be a lot of people to say goodbye to, even though…I mean, it could’ve been a lot worse, I guess.”

He couldn’t count how many times he’d said and heard, ‘it could’ve been worse’ since the demon summoner’s attack. Other people had been repeating those same words too, often sounding like they were trying to console themselves.

What had happened was an awful thing, but if there was one thing that the people of Generasi were good at, it was finding the positives in dark situations and walking forward.

“True,” Khalik said. “Few in number did die, when all was said and done. And the truth is, if it weren't for your and Baelin’s warnings and if The Watchers hadn’t been ready, then it would have been much worse. …but I am sure that is little consolation to those who had people they cared about die. When it is a loved one, onedeath is too many.”

Images of his home in flames worked through Alex’s mind.

He took a long sip from his cup.

The prince and Alex had been sitting on Khalik’s balcony, passing the pitcher back and forth for a while. Selina, Theresa, and Brutus had fallen into a deep sleep, while he’d tossed and turned until finally giving up and going to look out the window. A light was on in Khalik’s apartment and since Alex knew he was alone, he wondered if he might like some company. So, he’d paid his friend a visit.

There was a lot that had been keeping both of them awake. For Alex, it was-

“You know, there’s still a big part of me that’s having trouble believing Amir knew who the summoner was and didn't say anything,” he said. “I mean, the thought had crossed my mind that something was going on with him. It definitely had, but…hearing it announced, was kinda like taking a hard punch to the gut.”

“Maybe you hoped you’d be wrong,” Khalik suggested.

“Yeah, I definitely did, and that’s the truth.”

“Were you two friends?”

Alex paused, taking another long sip of wine. “I…I don’t know. I probably wouldn’t say friends, actually. We just talked while he was supervising me in Potions, and like a handful of times after that. I mean, we were friendly enough…ugh.”

There had been some bad moments—after he’d found out about Amir’s connection to the demon summoner—where he’d blamed himself for the last attack. He’d gone through different scenarios over and over in his mind, imagining himself telling the investigators his suspicions about Amir and preventing that final attack.

…but then he’d always come back to the same conclusion: his mind was looking at things with the advantage of hindsight. He’d done that before…a lot. After his parents had died, for the longest time, he’d keep coming up with a bunch of possible options and means that he could’ve used to save them that night, or ways he could have noticed the fire before it had spread so much.

For the longest time, he’d lived with a bunch of ‘what-ifs’…but eventually, he had to just make peace with the fact that there was nothing he could have done. Time and Mr. Lu had helped him get to that place.

It was the same with the Amir situation.

Now after Amir’s arrest and confession, it had suddenly seemed perfectly reasonable to think that he should have gone up to the nearest Watcher and shouted, “Amir’s suspicious!” with all the conviction in the world. “He’s the summoner probably!” he would’ve, said, but at the time, he had no evidence; he hadn’t even been convinced that Amir was the summoner. And he’d also thought about the damage an accusation without any proof could have caused.

‘What-ifs’ could drive a person crazy. The truth was: there was nothing he could’ve done, and no amount of hindsight was going to change that…and even if there was something he could’ve done, no amount of hindsight would let him go back in time and make different decisions.

“There is nothing you could have done,” Khalik said, echoing his thoughts. “Often, the only person who can save someone is themselves. We did well. We saved folk and we fought demons. That is good enough, I think.”

“Yeah…”

“How have Mr. and Mrs. Lu, and your sister been taking things?”

“All in all? Surprisingly well,” Alex said. “They’re a little shaken up—all three of them—but they’re doing alright, all things considered.”

“That is good.”

“And what about Sinope?” Alex asked. “How is she doing?”

“I…do not know.” Khalik took a long drink of wine. “She is…alright, I think. The dryads live in the wilderness and are not strangers to violence…but it is just that…”

“Just what?” Alex asked, facing his friend.

Khalik was wearing a look he’d never seen him wear before. Normally, he was always comfortable if—not outright brimming with confidence—but now, he almost looked a little lost.

“I…am not sure what to do. What we are,” the prince admitted.

“What do you mean ‘what we are’? You’re a prince and she’s a magical forest lady: that’s like something right out of a fairy tale.”

“And that is exactly-well, part of the issue,” the prince sighed.

“How so?”

“Bah,” Khalik said. “Think of what just happened, now is not the time to bring up relationship troubles.”

“No, no man, now is the perfect time for that.” Alex leaned over the table. “We just had an apocalyptic battle against shithead demons and watched people die and…it was rough. I kinda want to talk about something normal for a bit.”

“Hmmm, a fair point.” Khalik put down his glass. “I…well, we are…am not sure if you could call it ‘courting,’ but we were having fun visiting each other. Something like…friendship with the promise of more, I suppose? It is hard to describe, but then what happened after The Grand Battle put things… Do I go and support her? Does she do the same with me? Do we not speak to each other and leave one another alone? I know what I would do if she were my lover, but…we were not quite there yet.”

“What do you mean: not quite there, yet?”

“You know…that in-between place where you are sort of courting, but…more just feeling each other out.”

“I think your experience with women is a hell of a lot different than mine, Khalik.” Alex shrugged.

“…well, suffice it to say I do not know what to do,” the prince said. “And then…she is different from me. We are different from each other. Did you know that dryads do not even need lovers? When a dryad’s tree becomes old enough, they seed, and a baby dryad might be born from one of the sprouts. There is no need for men: courtship, loving, marriage is…it is just for pleasure for them. But for me, there are politics to consider: I am a prince, even if I am not heir. Who I marry is more a matter of state. And what happens when I graduate? Let us say we are in love, then. Do we transplant the tree she is bound to all the way to Tekezash? Do I stay here? I do not know.” He shook his head. “Ah, my thoughts chase themselves fruitlessly.”

“Well, that might be a ‘later’ problem,” Alex said. “I don’t know anything about dating dryads, but I do know about overthinking problems that you can’t really do anything about right now. Leave that later stuff for later. For now, me and Theresa talk all the time about…everything. Maybe talk to her about what you’re thinking.”

Khalik paused. “I do not want to push if such a conversation would be…less than welcomed.”

“Well, asking’s a lot better than letting it lie there, I think,” Alex said. “The worst that can happen is she says: ‘not now’.”

“That…is a good point,” Khalik finished his wine. “Thank you, you helped clear my head more than the night air and the drink. But speaking of talking about things…what of this Hannar-cim thing? Did you speak to Baelin, yet?”

“He’s been busy,” Alex said. “I’m going to see Mangal during her office hours tomorrow. Kinda wish classes weren’t delayed like the closing ceremony for The Games is. But, I get why they have to delay everything. Oh right, get this: the day that the closing ceremony’s held? That’s Theresa’s birthday.”

“Truly? I shall have to get her a gift. As for the timing…I am not sure if that is good or terrible timing,” Khalik said.

“Yeah, and then it’s mine soon after that. Then it looks like the beginning of the expedition will be soon after. Lots of things are coming fast.”

“They tend to,” Khalik said. “They tend to.”

“I would not recommend searching for demons, Alex,” Professor Mangal said as she inspected a summoning circle drawn on a piece of parchment. “Especially so early in your studies in summoning.”

“Well…” Alex said quickly. “I’m not planning to go after it like next week.”

Unless Baelin offered to go after it next week.

“But hypothetically,” he continued. “How would one track down a demon if they don’t know its name?”

Professor Mangal gave him a look over the summoning circle. “Are you joking, Alex?”

“Not even a little.”

“…revenge?”

“Pardon?”

“I am asking if you are searching for vengeance.”

“A little,” he didn’t bother lying. “But like I said, not yet. So…how would one find a demon?”

“What did it look like?”

Alex described Burn-Saw carefully: detailing his horns, build, three eyes and the scars along his body.

“Hmmm,” Mangal tapped her chin. “It sounds to me like you are looking for a Tiashiva: a minor demon of marauding and enlightenment. They roam the hells in packs, much as common bandits do in our world.”

“Marauding and enlightenment?” Alex asked. “They don’t sound like they go together.”

“Enlightenment can come in many forms,” his professor said, turning to a painting hanging below a window on a nearby wall.

Her office was a lot like the summoning tower: a bit on the creepy side. Statuettes, paintings, and other artworks of pretty horrifying looking otherworldly creatures filled the room, and her desk top had demon faces carved into it and leg supports of bleached wood engeli, and elementals. The window was of stained glass, and its coloured light fell on a painting below it.

It was a scene with a horrifyingly ridiculous amount of violence: demons and monsters were tearing each other apart in a fiery wasteland that resembled flesh, and blackened clots of blood. Bodies lay everywhere.

“Do you see this?” She pointed to the painting. “It is called Slaughter in the Flesh Fields of Avernus. At first, it only looks like senseless violence.”

“No argument there.” Alex said, squinting at the painting. He shuddered, looking away. It was a little too soon to be looking at demons ripping up any living thing. His lunch felt like it wanted to escape his stomach suddenly.

“But there is a rhythm and sense to the art piece,” Mangal said. “Its painter—a former soldier—once said that all violence in the universe follows a certain…rhythm, and that great warriors and killers understand that rhythm, much as a great musician understands the rhythm and melodies that make a good song. He found he reached a higher understanding of the universe by being immersed in violence, just as one might by viewing a still pool of water and the moonlight it reflects.”

“The pool sounds a lot nicer,” Alex said sourly.

“I agree, but the point is that it's been theorised that the third eye of Tiashivas represent their higher understanding of the violence they commit. It is their way of connecting to the universe much as you or I might engage with it through philosophy or art. The third eye also grants them sharp senses beyond that of the physical.”

“Don’t I know about that last part,” Alex said, adjusting his sling. “Okay. So how would I find one of these things?”

“Finding one of them? Easily? That would be a hard task. They are numerous. More numerous than we can comprehend. Which is why finding a single one—without a name—is next to impossible.”

Alex fought the urge to curse. “Okay, but wizards are always making the impossible possible. How would I try?”

“…you really are set on this, aren’t you?”

“It’d help me learn?” he offered.

She sighed, then pointed down to the summoning circle. His eyes followed her finger, studying the spot on the parchment she was pointing to.

“Is there…a spell that can locate it? One that uses summoning circles?” he asked hopefully.

“No,” she said. “But if I were going to attempt to even begin to do this…well, I’d take into consideration that the best way to find a demon?”

She glanced back at the painting. “Is to get to know other demons.”