Bala and Kosta spent their days differently from the rest of the group.

Bala, who was always hungry for stories, dedicated his time to gathering all the stories Firaska could offer. Since he always valued listening to stories over reading them, his main hunting grounds were Firaskian taverns. Soon all the tavern regulars, travellers, and barkeepers knew and welcomed the cheerful dark-skinned boy. Bala had little money to spend but was always generous and irresistibly charming when it came to sharing stories. He told people of his travels with his master, of North and South, of Ebony Islands and Chermasan Sea; he sang foreign songs and narrated foreign legends; he knew a good number of teasing verses too, both from Mirumir and Adjaen. Whenever Bala Maraskaran visited a tavern, curious folks followed him and the tavern owner’s business got a pleasant boost because of all the drinks and food they bought.

Kosta’s case was more complicated.

At first, hungry for knowledge, young Ollardian used to spend his days in the college library with Pai and Milian but then his illness got worse. On his last visit to the library, he borrowed a book titled “Tome of Dark Creatures”. That was how he spent his time now: bedridden, coughing, and reading the darkest textbook imaginable. Kosta’s breath was wheezy, superficial, difficult; if he tried to breathe deeply, his cough returned, making the boy painfully bent double in his bed. It seemed that his lungs were slowly filling with liquid with every passing day.

Kosta’s teammates, concerned with his condition, didn’t hear a single complaint from the stoic boy.

“It’s all right,” he always said. “It happens to me sometimes but it will pass.”

One can only guess how painful his life must have been that he had learned to accept such suffering as normal.

Kosta's condition worsened with each passing day. First, he put his book of horrors aside because even reading became too difficult for him, and then he stopped talking.

Bala brought a foreign healer to him once, a powerful mage who had happened to visit the city tavern Bala was a regular at. After examining the patient, the mage healer said, perplexed,

“Physically, he's fine. His illness resembles a severe case of magical addiction but it’s unlike any case I’ve seen.” He turned to Kosta. “Tell me, my boy, have you ever been to the No Man’s Land or the No Man’s Waters?”

Kosta nodded. He indeed had travelled with his father a lot.

“Did you enter any anomalies? Handled magical objects beyond the stable territory?”

Kosta shook his head.

The healer asked him many more other questions after that but failed to determine the source of his magical addiction. In the end, the mage had to give up. He chose to be honest with the brave boy.

“There is no cure…” he began and wanted to add something hopeful and soothing, but stopped when Kosta just nodded knowingly.

The powerful mage and renowned healer, Bala’s guest left the dark apartment deeply sad and defeated. He refused to accept any payment for his wasted time.

A week had passed after the healer’s visit. Kosta looked like a ghost now, so pale and thin he had become. There was no way to help him. Even returning to the Temple of Life would not solve the problem, for magical addiction is a mysterious illness without a known cure, not something you can treat with potions or magic.

There was no more fun and laughter in the little flat that the team was currently calling home. Every morning, the boys woke up early and left as quickly as possible. They trained and learned twice as hard as they used to, grateful for any distraction that could take their minds away from Kosta’s situation, even for a little while.