In a dark room, barely lit by the glow of magic, an old man sat in a chair. His mouth was slightly ajar, and his eyes seemed to be bloodshot, as though he hadn’t slept in a week. His body vibrated peculiarly, shaking like a leaf that was clinging onto a tree with its last fiber. If an innocent bystander had seen this scene, they would no doubt have called the nearest healer and tried their best to comfort the obviously sick man.

But if the bystander looked a little bit closer, just a little bit harder, they would notice that the shadows around his chair seemed to be just a little darker than normal. As well as the shadows on his robes, and the ones on his hands and feet. His neck was shrouded in blackness, a space where nothing seemed to exist at all.

That was because the old man was being murdered. Something that no bystander, no matter how perceptive, would have ever known.

The man himself knew. It was difficult to ignore being murdered, even when your enemy was invisible. He struggled all that he could, but to no avail. His weapons were unreachable, dozens of unseen manacles chaining him to the chair. The cold grip of something, solid and impenetrable.

His breath was blocked, his windpipe closed off. The man tried to scream, but his mouth remained closed against his will. His head grew light, and the man realized that this might be the end.

The end of Master Enchanter Eldwin.

The thought drove spikes of fear into his heart, and Eldwin struggled even harder. His body shook against the shade, but he remained chained to the chair. He slumped back down, exhausted and running out of time. Was there any way to get out of this?

His traps hadn’t activated. No spells he could cast with his hands tied.

Eldwin relaxed as he came to the only natural conclusion that he could. He was going to die here, alone, not even knowing what killed him. Perhaps that was for the best, after all he went through.

His mind hazed over, and he unwillingly plunged back in time through his memories.

###

The basement of Eldwin’s Enchantments was not glamorous in any sense of the word. It was made to be functional, and it succeeded at that. Eldwin sat behind his desk, carefully carving runic symbols on glass. Enchanting glass was infuriating and stupid, and he hated the City Council with all of his heart for making him do this.

He hated the fact that he’d proposed the project even more. The work was droll and uninteresting, and it wasn’t like the city needed enchanted lanterns. The oil wick lanterns worked fine, but every time that Eldwin saw them he was irked by how inefficient they were. A single enchanted lantern could save the city thousands per year in oil!

He’d even gone in front of the council and argued with them for weeks, going so far as to give them mass discounts on the project. And that was why he was here, chipping away at thin glass plates like some kind of half-baked sculptor.

A loud shuffling noise echoed down the staircase. Eldwin looked up, glad to be distracted. He sniffed with disdain. “Those should have been down here an hour ago! Are you slacking off again?”

His apprentice looked down, abashed. The expression didn’t fit on the large, muscular man. He held a giant wooden box in his hands that made a gentle clinking sound as he set it down on the ground. “Sorry. The glassblower is behind on his work.” The voice was soft and apologetic, another juxtaposition.

Eldwin sighed. “I suppose that I am, too.” He looked down at the dozens of similar boxes that were scattered across the floor. All of them were stacked full of the same plain glass plates that he currently held in his hands. For a brief second, the enchanter wondered if maybe he’d gotten himself in over his head.

He quickly banished that thought by yelling at his apprentice again. With a swivel of his head, he yelled, “Well? These crates won’t unpack themselves! Get on it.”

To Eldwin’s disappointment, his apprentice didn’t make any sort of groan or complaint as he silently set off to work. It looked like the man had finally learned that the only thing that would come of it was an extremely harsh lecture. One that his master would have loved dearly to give right now, if only to avoid working for an hour longer.

Eldwin found other ways to procrastinate, though. He stared intensely at the design that he was carving into the lamp-part as though it required any sort of advanced thought. In the end, this was nothing more than menial labor. An enchanter of his calibre should have had a dozen apprentices to slave away at this.

But the only one he had was useless. Not for the first time, Eldwin let a sad expression sit on his face as he thought about Teeger. A man who, for reasons beyond the enchanter, was willing to do whatever it took to learn magic. A fool that Eldwin didn’t have the heart to kick out.

His thoughts were interrupted by a distant sound. Eldwin scowled harder than usual. “Apprentice, did you hear that?”

Teeger swiveled to face him, eyes wide in fear of a scolding. Eldwin found it mildly amusing to see a grown man act like a guilty schoolchild. “I’m sorry sir, I didn’t hear anything.”

“Hmm.” Eldwin pushed his chair away from his desk and stretched to the ceiling. It really had been too long since he’d taken a break. Plus, the sounds from outside seemed to grow louder and louder, until he discerned them to be screams and shouts. “Is there a festival happening today? What day is it?”

“N-no, I don’t think so, Master. The harvest festival came and passed last week, there shouldn’t be any more for another half-year.”

“Well, something must be happening outside. Follow me, fool.” Eldwin walked towards the stairs, beckoning Teeger to follow. His curiosity was piqued. Perhaps a caravan of merchants had arrived at the town?

He opened the door to the street, and saw a parade. Or more accurately, a mob. Dozens of people ran screaming and shouting, shoes clacking on the stone tile. Behind them ran another dozen. Eldwin furrowed his brow. Was this a race of some sort?

Then he looked at where they were running away from. What they were running away from. A line of round, grey shields marched down the street in unison. The Northern Empire’s eagle was burned onto all of them, bringing more weight to the steps that the soldiers took.

In front of the army walked a man in white robes, long staff in hand. He was young, maybe in his twenties, but he led the soldiers like he was on a leisurely stroll.

An inkling of what was going on had formed in Eldwin’s mind. Any self-respecting magician knew what happened in the North not twenty years ago, and their rampage into the southern lands with the new emperor. But this had to be a trick of some kind. They couldn’t be invading Intigo.

“Master?” A steady hand fell onto his shoulder, and Eldwin realized that his knees felt weak. With a snort, he slapped Teeger’s hand off of his shoulder.

“Please. I’m not infirm yet. Stay here while I go give those buffoons a piece of my mind.” Eldwin strode towards the army with all of the self-confidence that he could muster. Towards the strange man in white, he yelled, “Who do you think you are, stinking this place up? This town isn’t anywhere near the Empire, last time I checked!”

The man leading the soldiers raised his hand in front of him, as though he was giving Eldwin something. A sudden burst of wind blew through the street, cold and unforgiving. Eldwin shivered, not just from the cold. It felt like something wrong crawled through the breeze, something not of this world.

The priest’s eyes opened, and they were as white as clouds. His voice was quiet, yet it carried well through the street. Every word seemed to drip with rage. He pointed a single, accusatory finger at Eldwin, and said, “This man is a heretic. Kill him.”

The shields pushed forwards, a barbed wall of danger rushing towards him. An end to his life.

Eldwin blinked, mouth agape. There was no time to prepare any circles, no time to chant a spell. His death approached and he stood there, eyes wide open.

“STOP!”

The words were spoken with such power that even the priest who gave the order hesitated. The master enchanter watched as his apprentice lumbered in front of the small army, striking an imposing figure. His back seemed tall enough to rival a mountain, strong enough to knock down all who opposed him thrice over.

“Master. You can’t die here.” Teeger never averted his eyes from the enemy, keeping himself between any of the dangers and the shriveled, old man that he protected. “Run away.”

“What? You expect me to sacrifice my own apprentice? You fool!” Eldwin regained his composure, and his acrid words. He took a few steps forward and tried to push Teeger away. The man didn’t budge.

With a contemptuous harrumph, Eldwin walked around his apprentice, standing directly in front of him. “Do you think that the master enchanter of a city as renowned as Intigo needs some nobody to sacrifice himself? I’ll have you know, you bumbling buffoon, that I am more than capable of looking after myself--”

“Master.”

Eldwin gave his apprentice a shriveling glare. “Did I give you permission to speak? This is why I don’t take on apprentices. They always get uppity, and then--”

The enchanter was interrupted as he got far more uppity than he ever expected. As in, Teeger tossed him aside, down one of the winding side alleys that Eldwin had always cursed. He had always called Intigo a mess of city planning, and he stood by that even as it saved his life.

Teeger stood in front of the entry to the passageway, blocking it completely. In the gaps of his silhouette, Eldwin saw shields and soldiers forming a semicircle around the man. “Please, Master. Go. Now.”

Eldwin felt his heart tearing in two. No matter how silly, stupid and utterly ridiculous his apprentice had been, he’d been the only one to stay by his side. He opened his mouth, but found that he had nothing to say. Gratitude engraved itself onto his heart, and he turned tail and ran.

He couldn’t stand to see what happened next.

He ran and ran and ran, until his breath grew short and his senses returned to him. Reality shattered on him like an engraved glass pane. His apprentice had died for him.

Tears ran down his face unbidden. Living had been a daily struggle before this, but in a cruel twist of fate, it seemed as though his fate had been shown to him.

No matter what happened to him, no matter what had to be taken, he would exact his revenge on the Northerners that took his friend away from him.

###

The memory hit Eldwin like a bolt of lightning, leaving him breathless. Or maybe that was the strangulation. His brain wasn’t working at its fullest capacity.

It didn’t matter. A flame was lit in his chest, blazing and burning with desire. The desire to never feel like he did when his apprentice sacrificed himself. Helpless, caught off guard.

He felt that heat migrate through his body, and settle on his limp hand. As if by miracle, a pillar of flame burst into being from his fingers. It scorched its way through his library, burning through his library. Eldwin didn’t feel a bite of remorse for the knowledge that he’d lost, since the tendrils of darkness retreated from his throat. He coughed as air entered his lungs once more, his cloudy mind clearing.

The first thing that he did with his newfound breath was laugh like a madman. Because he was a madman. A spell, with no circle, no preparation? It was unheard of for humans.

But the flame flickered on his palm regardless. A small smile graced Eldwin’s face. If this was some sort of illusion made by his enemies, it was a damn good one.

He looked around for whoever had just tried to kill him. It seemed that the only things he was surrounded by were burning books and creaking wood. “Show yourself, Northern assassin! You can’t hide forever!” Another chuckle reeking of insanity escaped his lips. A small, small part of his mind thought that he should run out of the study before it collapsed.

That part was squashed by the man who wanted revenge. For everything that he lost. He was going to kill everyone in his way, starting with the man who tried to kill him.