She leaned forward, her beautiful white hair fell over the sides of her face in what at first might look to be a happy, albeit messy, accident; on closer examination, however, Cedric felt that there was nothing unintentionally haphazard about the woman's looks. She had the hair color of an old crone, but the volume in that hair and the face she bore had her looking more like a prince's courtesan or a seductress. Only the lightest of wrinkles showed at the corners of the woman's eyes, not deep enough set to further age her still youthful appearance, but just enough so to give her an air of authority and wisdom.

Everything about the woman unnerved Cedric. She seemed too perfect, yet conflictingly so. She felt too manufactured by being too unique.

"You are placing me into a tough spot, Cedric Stormwind," she said through crossed fingers; her tone was not at all as troubled as her words might suggest, but there was a lace of darkness to them. "I don't know who told you that your family has influence here in my towers. It does not seem like something Luke might say."

Cedric frowned. "But we do."

The woman lowered one of her hands to her black, wooden desk. Her other palm cupped her chin.

"You have exactly as much influence as I allow," she said; her tone didn't change to match a threat--it was higher and more relaxed than before, if anything.

"I made a mistake," Cedric admitted reluctantly; he would be lying if he said he wasn't intimidated by her—and he'd be a fool to say it as well. "He did too. I shouldn't have broken the rules of our duel or disobeyed Master Steelvein."

She tapped the fingers of her lowered hand on her desk.

"You tried to kill him."

"No one can actually die in that arena," Cedric replied.

"Can't they?" she asked him.

Cedric felt the unease turn into a chill down his back, but he dared not shake. "We both broke the rules."

"And now you request a meeting with me to what?" she asked him. "Have him punished, banished? What will you threaten me with to gain that? I don't need coin, or power, or influence."

"I don't want him punished," Cedric said through respectfully strained teeth. "I want to beat him."

An edge of the woman's mouth lifted. "You want to punish him yourself."

"It's a request," Cedric said. "Not a demand; I wouldn't make one of you."

"It's a favor," the woman corrected him. "You will owe one to me."

Cedric hesitated; the woman unnerved him yes, but she was a pillar of influence and stability in the region and even the kingdom itself. He didn't think her evil. The nonchalantly raw power she had and the way she so clearly knew she wielded it with her every breath was what bothered him. He did not like standing in the shadow of a giant, for he knew not how long it would take him to grow as tall as they.

Cedric shook his head in the affirmative. "Then may I ask my favor?"

"Yes, go on, Cedric, but before you do, remember that I am patient and lack no abundance of time to ask my own in turn," she said with a now friendly look in her eyes. "Favors are the only currency I still seek to take from others--and I hoard them quite selfishly."

----------------------------------------

His hair was short, his eyes kind but tired. Unlike my father, the man's hair was greying around the edges of its brown.

"I'll admit I didn't expect to meet you like this," Master Renalt said as he examined my lightning-burnt arm. "This is quite bad."

The healer had introduced himself after Master Steelvein had dragged me through the teleportation sigil and into what looked like a study mixed with an infirmary. I didn't know why the resurrection arrays couldn't merely heal me without me having actually died, but I didn't dare ask the question of Steelvein as he had ordered me away from Cedric.

"I could probably heal it on my own," I said; I felt more tired than usual.

Mile curled at my feet. I had already used my working arm to heal the dog's bruised rib, even before following Steelvein through the teleporter. I had demanded that he allow me that, though I'm certain it only earned me a greater degree of his ire. Yet, the combat instructor had let me tend to Mile, even if he could've easily forced me to do as he commanded.

"I'm sure, but your mana circuits are a bit scarred already," Renalt said. "It's hard to use your own mana to heal yourself when it can't flow properly."

I had felt that what he said seemed true enough. It was noticeably difficult to circulate mana through my damaged arm; I'd noticed that much when I'd subdued Cedric. Granted, it had been much harder still when the other boy's mana-disrupting static was still actively flowing through my body.

"I noticed that," I said, trying not to look at Master Steelvein standing cross-armed by the teleportation dais. "I still think I could manage it now."

Master Renalt continued to run his glowing fingertips up my arm, his eyes intently focused as I felt his magic entering and reflecting on the state of my injuries.

"But why do that when an old family friend could help you? I met you when you were an infant, you know," he looked up to me and said with a smile. He then looked over to Steelvein and lowered his voice to a conspiratory whisper. "He does not look pleased with you."

I shook my head slightly at Renalt to agree.

"I voted for you during your initial evaluation," Renalt said and then lowered his voice again. "So did he."

I was surprised at that. Steelvein had been one of my supporters? He had barely given even the slightest hint of it.

Renalt must have noticed my thoughts showing on my face, because he then commented quietly on my doubt: "He wishes there were more warriors among his students. Many do not agree with his wishes, but he holds them all the same."

"I've noticed that," I said back, trying to be quiet but also to not appear as if I was actively trying to keep Master Steelvein from hearing me.

Renalt removed his fingertips from my arms and let his voice return to a normal volume. "I can heal this now, but you should be careful around lightning magic in the future. It disrupts mana and, as you can see, can leave your capability to cast spells reduced for a while. It gets inside your body to deal a sort of damage that being grazed by ice, earth, or fire magic just doesn't. It goes without saying that it's especially dangerous to mages."

Stolen novel; please report.

"Thank you, master, I'll keep it in mind," I said.

Renalt gave me his gentle, tired smile. "Try not to move too much while I cast the healing."

The mage lifted his palm over my arm. A small sigil flashed with a soft, white-gold glow in the center of his hand. A moment later, the spell circle descended gently to rest upon my arm.

The blackened streaks across my skin began to fade nearly instantly. Bit by bit, the numbness in the extremity receded. I might not have noticed it had I not healed myself with my druidry so often, but Renalt's healing magic was very different from my own.

His sigil did not increase or activate my arm's innate capacity for healing. Rather, it felt like my injuries were being erased. My skin, veins, and mana circuits did not repair themselves; they instead shifted through distinct stages of improved health rapidly. It was as if Renalt's magic was denying that my arm was as damaged as it was at all and making this denial manifest, one degree of severity at a time.

"Flex it for me," Renalt said and placed his other hand's fingers on a specific part of my forearm; the fingers began to glow.

Following his instructions, I closed my palm and opened it again.

The master mage nodded, and I felt his mana flow from his healing sigil and into me in a different manner. Something shifted inside my flesh, and I felt my own mana flow properly again.

Renalt dismissed his sigil and sat back on his stool. From where I sat on the chair he had offered me when I'd come in, I simply stared at my healed arm for a moment.

"Thank you. I've never seen healing magic like that in person before," I said.

"You have," Renalt replied, and continued to him when I looked up with an exhausted interest. "The second time I met you was by your father's request. He sent me a letter saying you were very sick with the red flux. You were much too young to remember, but I healed you then with a spell only slightly different than the one I just used."

When he mentioned me having been too young to remember him, I felt the same uncomfortable sensation in my mind that I always did when I began to dwell on my earliest years. My born trait allowed me to recall every moment that I'd ever experienced, to replay them perfectly in my mind if I so wished. However, whenever I tried to think back to a time before around my fifth year of life... there was some kind of strange resistance that I didn't want to push through. So I didn't; I never did. I let the discomfort fade and the rising memories with it.

"I guess I owe you another thank you then. Why haven't I seen you since?" I asked him.

Renalt's gentle face moved a bit; it looked like he might be experiencing a sad sort of remembering of his own for but a moment. "I've been rather busy. I've often thought of visiting your father and mother in your beautiful little village. How are they? I was surprised that Alexander did not come with you to Highmount and instead sent a letter recommending you to me, but I guess I can't begrudge him that considering."

"He--" I faltered; I didn't know exactly how to explain what had happened to my father in a few words.

Renalt's eyes slowly filled with soft and genuine concern as he observed my response. "He's not?"

"No, he's alive," I said.

"If you don't wish to talk about it, then I will not press the issue, but," Renalt paused, trying to be kind, "Alexander is a close friend. I'd like to know if I can help if he's in trouble. Would you be able to tell me what happened?"

Could anyone help my father? If anyone could, perhaps the masters of the towers could. A small bit of hope flickered in my heart. Just enough hope to push back the pain of speaking of the matter.

"It's a long story, but I'll tell you if you think you can help him," I said.

Renalt glanced to Steelvein, then back to me. "You're in trouble right now, yes? But much less than your father?"

I nodded. "Yes, I think I am."

"Then whatever you did can wait," Renalt said and then looked to Steelvein. "Daron. I would like to speak to Peregrine privately for a time. Would that be possible?"

Steelvein, his face even more unreadable than even Garron's could be at times, studied Master Renalt.

"Initiate," Steelvein addressed me, "are you dumb enough to be a threat to anyone else in the Towers going forward?"

"No, master."

"If I don't come to collect you myself, then we will have words of our own later," Steelvein told me.

I almost gulped, almost. "I understand, master."

Master Steelvein nodded at Master Renalt and lowered his crossed arms. "Good day, Master Renalt."

"Good day, Master Steelvein," Renalt said politely, matching Steelvein's formal address this time, but much less stiffly—I was fairly certain I sensed some kind of friendship there.

When Steelvein had left through the teleportation sigil, Renalt turned back to me. He stood from his stool and motioned for me to bring my chair back to the table he'd originally dragged it away from. Once we were both seated once more, he addressed me again; I wasn't looking forward to what I knew he was about to ask me to do.

"Tell me what happened, and I'll tell you what I may be able to do," Master Renalt said. "Take as much time as you need, Peregrine."

And so I took a deep breath and told him everything. Almost everything, anyway. I left out the details of me having met a dark, forgotten god—Bastion had told me to never reveal this to anyone without his permission.

I told Renal of the daemon on the summit, of the chained wind spirit Perenine who I had permitted to possess me in order to save my family, and how my father had taken my place as her vessel to instead save me.

Starring at the wood of the table was all I could do to keep the tears I felt welling from falling; I knew that if I looked at Master Renalt and saw any human empathy, recognizing my loss, in him that I would crumble because of it.

"That damned wind spirit," Master Renalt said after allowing nearly a whole minute for my tale to settle into silence. "Son, I am sorry."

I swallowed hard and allowed myself to finally meet his gaze. His weary eyes appeared many degrees more tired than they had even before.

"You know her?" I asked.

"Your father... sought her out when we worked for the guild together," Renalt revealed. "They were—well, it doesn't matter. He formed a bond with her and gained powers from her, as you already know," the master healer put his forehead onto his propped hand. "I told your father that spirits were dangerous, that they don't think like we do." He then gave a small, sad smile. "But then, if there was anyone who could get the better of one, then it was Alexander."

"Can you help me?" I asked.

Renalt's smile faded. "Peregrine--"

I begged him, "Please just tell me," as the meager hope he had given me kept the tears back.

He lowered his hand from his forehead to the bridge of his nose and sighed. He then looked at me with measured honesty.

"Even if I convinced the other masters to aid me in forcing Perenine to vacate your father's body, I'm not sure I think Alexander would want us to. Or that we should, if we actually could," he said. "I don't know what magic the daemon you spoke of could've used to damage a greater elemental to such an extent as to make her require a vessel to heal; I don't want to know. But if she is in your father's body now, I'm not sure even a party of master mages could force anything of her without such foul measures."

"But you might be able to?" I said and my voice strained.

Renalt reacted to my pain. "If we did force her to free him, if she's not healed enough to maintain her form then..." He didn't appear to want to say what he needed to anymore than I wanted to hear it. "You saw yourself what would happen to the lesser elementals under her charge. What could happen to the entire region if they ran rampant."

My voice cracked. "But you're a master. What use is there in your power? What use is there in having it if you can't fix what's broken? You're a healer."

Renalt looked at me with the pity I hadn't wanted to see in him. "I am," he said gently, "but as you said, I am a healer. Power for the sake of force is not what I want to wield. It's not how I see the world."

There was something else, some hidden meaning beyond the surface, behind the master mage's eyes. He was hiding something—no, I recognized, he just wasn't able to say it.

"You said the others could fight her," I asked.

What he said next froze my heart, no matter how kindly he said it. No matter how right he was.

"Do you not think your father may have traded his years away not just for you alone but also for every other person who would have died if he had not made that sacrifice?"

My hands gripped the table, harder than I had previously been aware they had been. And they were shaking now.

"You can't help him?" I asked again, my indignation fading as the momentarily-experienced sense of hope did as well.

Renalt stood slowly and rounded the table. He placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Alexander was like a brother to me. I promise you, I will do everything within my power to find a way to help him without making a choice for him that he would never make of his own will," the master said.

And there it was. The hope I had not felt for months faded down, but Master Renalt did not let it die completely. Where before I had felt so numb and angry, no matter how hard I'd tried to hide it from everyone and myself, that one sentence from the master's mouth kept me from locking my pain back inside the dark box I'd constructed from my hopelessness.

He embraced me as I finally broke down. As a brother to my absent father would have—and as one now did.