“I don’t want to lead these people to their death,” said Juel, looking his master in the eye. “I’m not a murderer and not a liar.”

“I know,” said Kangassk Abadar, crossing his arms on his chest. His cloak was flapping in the wind like a flag. “I will be honest with you, Juel. There is no one to murder there. They died a long time ago, even before becoming the apprentices of the Order. You alone are real of the whole team.”

“I don’t understand…” recoiled Juel.

“I know. But you will,” Abadar leaned forward. “You will see the truth, all of it, very clearly, when you step onto the shore of the Karmasan sea with Hot Obsidian burning on your chest.”

“…died a long time ago…” The cruel phrase echoed in Juel’s mind again.

He raised his eyes and saw that a lot of time had passed while he was brooding over the past, relieving the strange conversation over and over again in the vain hope of grasping the meaning of his master’s words.

Bala was busy cooking breakfast for the whole team. Kosta had changed into a clean set of clothes and was asking Pai about a magical way to remove blood stains because plain soap had been no help. Orion was making a wooden flute for Jarmin, and Jarmin was nagging Oasis about more stories…

With Kosta's life no longer in danger, there were chatter and laughter in the room again. More than ever, the small flat felt like home.

“…you alone are real of the whole team…” another echo rose from Juel’s memory.

The austere Faizul hid his face in his hands. He felt like crying now, as a helpless little child would.

When I was small

My sworn oath was spoken

And I will honour it whole.

My word was given

Ere my mind was woken

When there was peace in my soul.

I kept my promise

Through the years, unbroken

And I have won me a sword.

If I could return,

Knew what it might betoken,

Yes, again I would give my word.

Max Milian, when he was a child

Einar Sharlou was enjoying the view opening from the college loftiest tower. He was alone there, on the balcony, alone with his thoughts.

Those were the last days of spring but the weather was summer-hot. It turned the whole city into a giant frying pan and made the college moat the only safe haven for everyone suffering from the heat. Einar could hear students and other kids splashing in the college moat and deeply regretted being unable to join them. A magister's status had its downsides, indeed…

With a tired sigh, Einar turned away from the city and gave the lush green of the Firaskian forest a long, yearning look. There was shade, beautiful, tempting shade under the ancient cedars; and quiet. If only that charming place weren’t crawling with dark creatures… like the one his young friend Kosta had killed recently. A twelve-year-old ambasiath.

The morok was about two centuries old. Einar was the one who had put its head into a formaldehyde jar in the college museum, so he knew that for sure. Just like most mages, Einar Sharlou usually considered the ambasiaths’ way a waste of magical potential. But sometimes, their deeds made him doubt himself. Kosta’s famous victory over the moroks was certainly one of those. And all when he, Sharlou, must finally decide what to do with Pai!

Pai Prior was a talented boy; even more: a boy living and breathing his dream of becoming a mage. He studied so hard, he shone so brightly! He was everything Einar dreamed of being and was never going to be, but instead of getting jealous, the junior magister wanted to help. After these months, the very thought of letting such talent go to waste became unbearable to Einar Sharlou.