Ali Alhadeen walked swiftly through the halls of the great mansion with his head held high. Lady Glenlen had taken most of her entourage with her to make her speech at the academy, but he knew enough to know that he would not be missed. None of the other slaves found it odd that he wandered the halls, he was obviously going only from the harem to Lady Glenlen’s chambers, and the walk was a short one.

The morning sun had barely risen and the courtyard was bathed in an orange that reflected off the ocean; a beautiful sight for his last day in slavery.

The guards were stationed outside the large living area he shared with the other boys, not in the hall that connected it to Lady Glenlen’s bedchambers, but they would be standing outside the other door, connecting the area to the rest of the mansion.

If they were standing there at all. If they had not deserted their posts on a day like today, when there was no one to guard and no threat. It was more likely they had gone down to the servant’s hall to have a real breakfast with their work friends.

When the cat’s away, after all, the mice will play.

The large cabinet beside Lady Glenlen’s elaborate bed was glowing a bright green to his mage’s eyes, and he clicked the ring his mother had given him between his teeth. He had, in his time at the manor, gotten particularly good at hiding it. He had swallowed it more than once, and the only issue he had ever had with that particular plan was finding it again to clean. But now he spit it out, wiped it on his sash, and slid it onto his finger.

He would not say that Lady Glenlen was not an advanced mage; that she was not skilled; that her wards would not be difficult to break. But Ali’s mother was, arguably, more skilled, and had passed both her genetic predisposition to magic, and her knowledge, on to her son. Ali ran one hand over the brand on the back of his neck, then placed both in front of him, directing them toward the ward.

Would Lady Glenlen feel it? When it broke?

He assumed she would; assumed he was working on a tight time frame. They would be warned. But this was his chance; this was his one shot, and it had to work, because if it did not, he would likely be discovered.

Help me. The creature within the cabinet begged, help me, and I will help you.

Ali felt the fire in his heart move through his blood and channeled it through his hands, where it erupted, catching not only the magical ward Lady Glenlen had laid, but also her wooden wardrobe, polished with something that was, apparently, even more flammable than the hardwood underneath.

Ali did not see the madness in his own eyes as fire crackled and popped, as it spread to the many sheets and pillows laid out on Lady Glenlen’s bed, but he did think of how often he had been in that room, of how often he had the thought: this place is a tinderbox.

Whatever else had been in the cabinet burned away, but one thing, one singular item, seemed not to notice fire, seemed not to even understand that it should have the capacity to burn or melt.

A goblet sparkled like silver, with mage crystals set into the rim, but Ali was surprised by its condition as he reached into the flame and picked it up. It had a large crack running down one side, as if someone had attempted to break it, and the crack had loosened the setting for one of the mage crystals, a water crystal by the look of it.

Ali was unfamiliar with the type of metal the cup was made of, but he made a guess as he held it in his hand. Holding it dulled his senses, made it feel as if it would be impossible to cast from that hand. Wherever he touched the cup, he ceased to feel the flow of magic around him, and the flow of magic within him hit the metal and bounced back into his body, into his soul, as if it did not understand what he was holding.

The crystal that had been damaged began to glow, as a voice filled the room with laughter.

Ali heard footsteps pounding the hallway and realized that the curtains, the paintings on the walls, the grand tapestries, had all caught in the blaze he had set while he had been staring at the cup.

“Fire!” Someone yelled from outside.

The light emanating from the cup glowed brighter, as if shooting forward, as if meant to illuminate something, and as Ali watched, that illumination itself took shape.

It grew from the heart outward, until it held the shape of a man, and suddenly it was not light, but a solid form.

He had flesh the color of the deep, blue ocean, and long hair the color of sea foam, the sharp, angular features of an elf, and he held out first one arm, then the other, shook them, and was suddenly clad in an elaborate outfit covered by a mage robe embroidered in silver.

“Prince Ali,” he said with a smile, and Ali did not like the emotion in his eyes, “It’s nice to see you. I want you to know that it was never the wards. It was always the cup.”

“I’m not a prince,” Ali said, “I’m a Knight of Order. I walk the path of order. I follow the White Rabbit.”

The door burst open and the two guards who had abandoned their post looked in at the blaze in horror.

“Definitely fire!” One of them shouted.

“Not yet,” The djinn said as if he had not noticed the guards, “but I see things that are, things that were, things that may be. Actually…” he considered, studying the boy, “It might not be you. How well can you see? Do you need glasses?”

“What?” Ali asked.

“Who are you?” One of the guards asked, directing this question to the strange man as he wrapped a bandanna around his mouth to block the smoke, “Have you-”

He was likely going to ask, “Set this fire,” but he did not get a chance, because he began to writhe, then to bulge, and Ali looked on in horror as streams of blood began to flow from him, from places where blood was not meant to flow, from his eyes, his open mouth, his nose, his ears, and he fell to the floor in a heap.

The other man had made the sensible decision to run, but he did not get far before his body froze, then began to walk in hasty, jerking movements, back toward the inferno.

Ali turned to see the man moving his hands as if he was a puppeteer with a marionette.

“That’s a good question,” the man said as he apparently worked some sort of magic Ali did not understand, moving the man into the room, then past them, toward the balcony. “The first time, I would say that I was… asked to play god. The last time, I wanted to play mortal, because I thought that would be better, somehow, that he would love me more, somehow… but it didn’t matter. It wouldn’t have mattered. He knew me for who I was, and he loved me still. But playing mortal was exhausting.”

He walked with the man onto the balcony, and Ali, still clutching the cup, followed, wondering what he had wrought.

“I am Lapus Lazuli,” the strange man said, “and this time, mortal… I think I’m back to playing god.”

The man leapt from the balcony in a single jerk and Lapus’s smile widened as Ali bent over and watched the man fall screaming until he hit the jagged rocks below.

“You’re the djinn?” Ali asked.

The man made no immediate reply, but instead climbed onto the railing and spread out his arms, apparently looking out over the sea.

“I have to warn Xac,” he said, after a moment, “I can’t see him! No one can see him! But I’ve had a dream… I listen to my dreams.”

“What?” Ali asked.

“Find someone who knows where he is,” Lapus said, “and tell them to send word that Lapus is going to kill him.”

“You?” Ali asked, looking down at the corpse.

“No,” the man said, jumped from the balcony, and disappeared.

In the blink of an eye he was standing beside Ali again and fuming.

“I’m still stuck!” he screamed as if this was somehow Ali’s fault, “Whatever you do, don’t throw that chalice into the sea!”

“I had no desire to… I wasn’t going to… I hadn’t meant… why would I do that?” Ali asked.

“Because mortals are fools!” Lapus lamented, raving about and throwing his hands into the air, waving them in front of him, and generally seeming as if he needed to burn off a lot of energy.

“Mr Lazuli-” Ali began.

“Lapus,” Lapus said, “my dear friends call me Lappy. My lovers, as well- though it can sometimes be hard to spot the difference.”

“We need to- that is, I need your help to-”

“Urriceia,” Lapus said, “Urriceia put me in a cabinet!”

Ali steeled himself, spread his legs wide, and held the chalice to his chest with both hands, “I wish that the Knights of Order could take back the Fire Continent; that humans could be free; that fire elves could roam the lands they once walked; that we could bring order back to this land.”

“Do you?” Lapus asked. “Well, boy, you’re in luck. Because I’m in dire need of a friend, and you’ve never had a friend like me.”

Ali watched the clouds gather above them as the sky grew dark.

“This is a joyous occasion,” Felearn was saying to the gathered crowd in the largest room of the academy as the rain began to fall outdoors, pattering on the roof and streaming down the windows, “I am so proud of all of you. What you have achieved here will help guide you, will serve as a foundation, for lives that are sure to be filled with acclaim, honor, and accomplishment.”

“However, it is with a heavy heart that we must all remember that we are not all gathered here today. We must allow this tragedy to serve as a reminder; we have been gifted the ability to wield magic for a reason. We are scholars, we are pioneers, but more than that, we are protectors. We must create the world that we wish to see; we must create the safety that we want for ourselves, and our children. Lady Glenlen, our esteemed leader, would like to say more on this subject.”

He stepped to the side, fisted one hand over his heart, the other in the small of his back, bowed, then picked up his cane from where he had leaned it against the podium and went to take his seat with the rest of the faculty on the stage.

Lady Glenlen stepped to the podium and the guards who had been stationed below it stood up straighter.

“Honored Students,” she said, looking up from the notes she had laid out to motion to the graduating class, “and distinguished guests,” she waved to the section behind them, full of spectators, “it is with a heavy heart that I stand before you today. I wish to speak, first, to the parents in the audience.”

She took a deep breath and her voice wavered, “We… we have been blessed. We have, all of us, been blessed by Thesis with children; children who are…”

Virbilia looked at Quiroris and they both frowned. Was she going to cry? Should he escort her from the stage?

“A child,” Lady Glenlen began again, “is… something you grow, something you nurture. Something that comes from within you- it is impossible to… to separate it from yourself. I… I grew my son as I grew my… my arms… my hands…” She spread them in front of her and her eyes misted as she widened her fingers. “And today… today for many of you, we, as a society, are asking you to take a step that I would argue could be impossible. We are asking that you send your children into the world, off to their own careers, their own weddings, to grow their own lives and their own families. I would not ask you to cut off your hand. Yet, we ask that parents give up their children.”

“I ask that you treasure your children,” she continued, “that you treasure every day. That you do not allow a day to pass wherein you do not remind them that they are a part of you; that you love them as you love yourself; that no matter what happens, you cannot sever that tie, because it exists on a level they cannot understand until they have a child of their own.”

“And students,” she continued, “I ask… that you forgive us. That you try to understand that we have done the best we could; that we have tried to tame this wild land; have tried to create safety and security for you. I ask that you go forward, and you build on the foundation that we have created. I ask that each generation uphold the strong Urillian traditions, our culture, our way of life. I ask that you remain strong in your futures, that you-”

The students did not hear the rest of what she had asked of them, because all at once, every window in the room shattered, and the rain came pouring in. At the same instant, the wide, double doors flew open so hard they hit the adjoining wall, and the loudest voice any of them had ever heard cried out.

“Boom!”

Lapus stood at the head of a small army, with Ali to his right and Bubbideer to his left, and behind them a sea of faces, some familiar, but all who followed the Path of Order.

Felearn had jumped to his feet when he had seen the students crouch, and now stood, leaning heavily on his walking stick, as the man and his procession strode into the room.

“Urriceia!” Lapus said, “I’m angry at you.”

“What are you doing here?” She yelled, “You- what the hell are you- YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO KEEP HIM SAFE!”

“I’ve considered myself under new management for quite some time,” Lapus said, “I’m a freelancer, and you are not worthy of my services.”

“Who are you?” Quiroris demanded, “What do you want?”

“I am Lapus Lazuli!” Lapus declared, “You may remember me from that time Captain Nochdifache warned you about this!”

He stretched out his arms and began to float upward, above the crowd.

“You imprisoned me, Urriceia!” he accused, “Not only me, but several others. You came here, centuries ago, with the goal of imprisonment. You may think it has served you well, but you people have made a terrible mistake!”

He smiled down at her as water began to flow into the room from the open door, the open windows, and the crowd stared up as if one living organism. Bubbider had seen this before, had seen what disbelief could do to a crowd, and she had seen what happened when someone cracked the fragility of the shock.

“You pissed me off,” Lapus said, almost too quietly to hear over the sound of the storm, and Lady Glenlen went ridgid.

She floated as well, and the startled crowd watched as the blood flowed from her, not only from her orifices, but from every pore, leaking from her shrieking form and joining the water below.

That was enough to create the chaos.

Parents ran to children, shields were thrown enough to shake the earth and the foundations of the school, and the army that had followed him sprang into action.

“Shield!” the headmaster shrieked.

As Ali plunged the sword he had taken from the fallen guard the djinn had slain back at the mansion, he thought that over the cacophony that was the screams and the storm and the whispered prayers, he heard the sound of mad laughter.

Ali and Bubbider stared out at the destruction below from the balcony of the late Lady Glenlen’s mansion.

The sea had risen to claim the town in a way that made no logical sense. The water flowed in strange, impossible patterns, covering some buildings completely and missing others; there were paths that were bone dry, blocked on either side by walls of water. Occasionally, lightning would strike from the dark clouds that still blotted out the sun.

“I… I didn’t know it would be so much,” Ali said.

A vortex of water swirled around the mansion like a whirlpool, and they stared through it at the horror they had wrought.

The djinn appeared beside them and asked, “Well? What’s next?”

“I…” Bubbider slowly turned to face him, “I have… I have a list.”

“Wonderful,” Lapus held out his hand.

“It’s… it’s not all… I have to run back inside and-”

The djinn stared at her, and she thought it best to give him what he wanted.

Bubbider had kept a running log of the list Orenda had compiled of the nobility, to be stored with Spring, who knew all there was to know on the subject of record keeping. It took her no time to return from the interior of the mansion with it, as the Knights of Order had fled to the safety of their new headquarters.

There was not much need to fight on an individual level.

She had underestimated the power Ali had spoken of.

She had thought him mad.

She handed the list to the Djinn and he unfurled it to read aloud.

“Lady Shalendra Glenlen,” he said, “No need, Gary’s going to do that one- oh! These are navy officers- they’re on the ocean. That’ll be fun!”

Then he was gone.

“He’s trapped in the chalice,” Ali explained, “As long as we have the chalice, we have his loyalty.”

“He’s trapped?” Bubbider asked, “He’s trapped and he has to do your bidding? He’s a slave?”

Lapus Lazuli sat on top of the mansion on the cliff overlooking the sea and held his face skyward to let the rain flow over him.

After a few seconds, he began to sing.

“There is a flower within my heart.”

He held out a hand, and the puddle before him stood and began to take shape. In a few seconds, two figures began to dance. One was obviously Lapus himself, and the other a human man.

“Planted one day by a glancing dart,”

The man changed to a rabbit, but still the figures danced.

“Planted by Daisy Bell.

Whether she loves me or loves me not,

Sometimes it’s hard to tell,

Yet I am longing to share the lot

Of beautiful Daisy Bell!

Daisy

Daisy

Give me your answer, do,” Lapus sang as the figures continued to dance, the rabbit shifting back to it’s human form.

“I’m half crazy,” Lapus could feel his head twitch, his voice break, but he continued.

“Over my love for you.

It won’t be a stylish marriage

I can’t afford a carriage

But you’d look sweet

Upon the seat, of a bicycle built for two.

We will go tandem as man and wife

Daisy, Daisy

Peddling along down the road of life

I and my Daisy Bell,

When the road’s dark, we will both despise

Policemen and lamps, as well

There are bright lights in the sparkling eyes

Of my beautiful Daisy Bell.

Daisy, Daisy,

Give me my answer, do-

I’m half crazy

Over my love for you.”