Before you go outside with Donovan, you make sure to grab a few important things you left in the library: your quarterstaff, made from unyielding, dark wood and tipped with iron; your bag, filled with spell scrolls you've secretly hoarded and stolen over the years of magic you're too low level to truly learn; and finally your spellbook with all the magic you actually know scrawled on its pages.

You walk behind Donovan as the pair of you walk through a paved path in the empty school gardens. No-one else is here with you - it must be well past curfew. It's blanketed in darkness, with only the faint black silhouettes of hedges, benches and flowers visible as they wave to and fro with the gentle and cool night-time breeze, barely visible against the deep and dark blue hue of the night sky. The stars shimmer and shine above you, and the moon which normally has its light hazed by clouds is clear and round and full this night. The sight of it fills you with a strange determination like a fire in your soul. You quietly cast Firebolt at a nearby torch posted up along the path, causing it to burn and flicker and giving you a little light. You're determined to burn him to the ground and you want to see him scream as you do so. But not literally burn him, only metaphorically. If you did literally burn him you might accidentally set things on fire you do not want to set on fire.

"Lovely night out, isn't it?" Donovan says as he faces away from you. "A little chilly for a summer's night. I suppose the weather's been somewhat strange lately. The nature spirits seem a little agitated."

You don't care. "Turn around."

"It's probably because of the Pneumas War. The elves and dwarves are going to wipe each other out at this rate."

You don't care. "Turn around."

"I personally think it's a ridiculous venture by both of them. They know it's futile. Their struggles and deaths are all for nought. No matter how much the lesser races scrap and bicker, humanity will always be on top."

You grab him by the shoulder and force him to turn around to you. His eyes have a cruel glint in them as they look down upon you.

"I don't care."

Donovan smiles. It freezes your heart. "Oh, but you should, Hale. You seem to think that you're my equal. I'm going to correct that notion."

He bends down to your eye level, staring at you, still with that grin on his face. "Back in the forest, when you did that trick with Prestidigitation, I'll admit it - you worried me. It was when I realised you weren't going to accept my authority and I was afraid I'd have to fight to hold onto it. But all that fear vanished when I saw the look on your face when you saw the goblins dying slowly in the pit. I knew that look. It was the look of someone who's soul is unravelling. It was a look of recognition. It was a look of - "

You grip your quarterstaff with both hands as you thrust it up at the underside of his chin. He tilts his head up and dodges your attack with ease, standing his ground as he towers over you. His grin widens, revealing his perfect teeth as he reaches into his uniform and pulls out a dagger before swinging at you with it. You try to block it with your staff and barely manage to. You try to knock him back, but he's too fast and easily gets out of the way.

You consider using Sleep, but you decide against it since you want to see him suffer. Instead, you cast Grease.

The ground beneath Donovan is covered in a slick oil and Donovan makes a double-take as he tries to stabilise himself against the slippery ground. He steadies himself and quickly runs further away from you and deeper into the grease puddle. As he retreats you bash him in the elbow, making him recoil in pain - you can't help but smile slightly at this. As he stands in the middle of the grease, he throws his dagger at you and -

Terrible pain suddenly shoots from your arm - you crane your neck around to look at it and see the dagger's blade dripping with blood - your blood - as it sticks out of your shoulder. The pain gets worse as you look at the wound and your vision goes blurry, but you ignore it. Donovan laughs at you. You can't get close to him anymore - you'll slip on the grease if you try to approach him. But you expected him to run into the grease to protect himself. You planned for this.

You drop your staff as you rip open your bag and take out the scroll at the top, one that you always, always put at the top - Colour Spray. You scramble to the edge of the grease puddle, read the spell aloud and cast it. A black cone that seems to absorb light explodes from the scroll and swallows up Donovan's body whole. You don't know what kind of face he's making on the other side, but you know it must be hilarious - inside the black cone are hundreds of terribly bright and colourful lights that painfully blind whoever's trapped inside temporarily. The cone vanishes along with the scroll and Donovan is stumbling around with a stupid look on his face, eventually slipping on the grease with a yelp and falling flat on his back. He quickly manages to jump back up and draws another two daggers from his uniform, holding them in his hands ready in case of another attack.

Unfortunately for him, he's facing the wrong direction entirely.

You rip the dagger in your shoulder out and throw it at Donovan with all your strength, and despite his attempts at preparing himself, it makes contact with his back and tears through his flesh with a sickening ripping noise. You can't help but giggle in glee as you watch the blood pour from his back - finally, you were going to subjugate him, break him, stamp on him as you climb your way to the titles of Hero and of mortal god, the power that you've wanted all these years, that he dared to try to take away from you after all that you've gone through to -

Donovan's blindness wears off. He drops his daggers, rushes out of the grease, grabs your quarterstaff off of the floor and rises to his full height, lumbering over you like a dark tree flickering in the torchlight as he raises it above you -

- you see your father bringing down his harsh cane on your defenceless body -

- you hear someone scream viciously and you realise it's your own, as you feel the rough path against your cheek as Donovan stands over your body, still holding your staff. He cuts off your scream by forcing the staff down your mouth while it's wide open, brutally smashing against the back of it. You taste something salty in your mouth - you can't tell if it's your blood, the iron caps of the quarterstaff, or your own tears.

Wait, your tears?

Are you seriously crying right now?

"Go on and wake up the entire bloody school, will you?" Donovan quietly whispers as he grinds the staff against the back of your throat. "This is exactly my point, Hale. That look back in the cave when you saw the goblins was one of someone who looked at their reflection and saw something hideous. You're weak - "

He kicks you in the stomach and you splutter -

" - delusional - "

He rubs his boot against your face -

" - ignorant - "

He mashes his heel against your eye -

" - cowardly - "

He knocks out a couple of your teeth with your staff -

" - and above all, you're aiming to become something you can never be. A Hero. Because you're not powerful enough - "

He kicks you in the face -

" - to kill anyone for what you want. If you really wanted to be a Hero, you know what you would have done?"

He smiles at you.

"You would've burnt me to a crisp with Firebolt. You would've ripped out Alvar's heart. You would've snapped Aala's neck while the two of you were alone together and run away in the night."

He kicks your body and you roll over, your mouth wide open on the dirt of the gardens as you bleed and cough and splutter and cry. He tosses your quarterstaff at you. It lands on your back, and it hurts.

"Stay at this school. Grind to level 5. Go on an adventure with Aala and Alvar. Get killed in battle by some orc chieftain. But never, ever try to exceed again unless you're willing to burn down everything and everyone for the power and glory of Heroism. I'll be there to break you down again every time."

You grimace as you try to pull yourself up with your staff. Donovan knocks it out from underneath you.

"Don't..." you croak weakly.

"Hm? Don't what? You want me to stop bullying you? You gonna go cry for your mummy or daddy? Tell on a teacher?"

"Don't hurt Aala..."

"Oh. Oh. I see. Well then, I won't hurt her at all."

He grabs you by the hair and pulls you up to face his eyes. They've gone from having a cruel glint to just being... cruel.

"On one condition."

You're standing in the school library entranceway. The fireplace has been put out and the place is completely dark, save for a few beams of moonlight streaming through its windows. The bookshelves bask in its silvery glow and the books seem ethereal, displaying the power of the knowledge within them. Tonight, the library is looking the most beautiful you've ever seen it.

You're crying at the sight of it.

You hear hurried footsteps behind you. You wipe your tears and turn and see Donovan and Aala behind you. Aala is in her bedclothes, holding a flickering candle in one hand and her war-mallet in the other. Her eyes are wide with shock and despair as she stares at you. Donovan is still wounded. His eyes are cruel. So, so cruel.

"Hale," Aala says shakily. "Please. Don't do this."

You say nothing. You can't say anything.

"Why? Why would you hurt Donovan? Why would you..." she swallows hard. "Want to do this?"

You remain silent.

"ANSWER ME!" She screams. "I DESERVE AN ANSWER!"

You can't deny that, so you silently shake your head. She takes a step back.

"You... you're not going to tell me? You won't tell me?"

You remain silent.

She turns away from you. "Fine. I guess I have no choice."

She raises the war-mallet. You see Donovan crack a smile as she brings it down, screaming incantations and -

You feel almost all the pain vanish from you. You look down at your body - all your wounds are gone. You turn to her in shock.

"Don't give me that look, idiot." She smiles with tears welling up in her eyes. "You're pretty smart. I know you wouldn't do this without a good reason, even if you won't tell me. I - " her voice breaks. "I trust you, Hale. No matter what you do. And of course, a cleric can't leave her friends wounded, can she?"

You smile in acknowledgement of her. Your soul is silently burning deep within you. It's burning with torment and sadness and joy and pain all at once. You think of Aala as you take a deep breath and raise your quarterstaff. The library truly is beautiful tonight.

"Immolate."

A book bursts into flame. It travels along and down and between bookshelves, spreading between them. The heat of the fire makes you sweat. All you hear is the crackle of flames and -

- is that a girl screaming?

It stops as quickly as you hear it, and you decide you're going a little mad. Eventually, after a few minutes of burning, all that remains of the library is an empty hall and piles of ash.

The smell of it makes your eyes water.