“You’re certain you’re somewhere without too much to burn?” Aiz’s voice questioned Omid, who stared at the open door to his private bath.

No that still didn’t sound right.

The bath he was allowed to have, Omid thought to himself with a pleased nod. “Quite certain. If worst comes to worst there is a body of water I can easily use to extinguish anything including myself.”

There was a too long pause as Omid’s smile at his finding a more pleasing truth to tell himself began to fall. “Aiz?”

“You said this is in fact your own room, correct?” Aiz questioned.

Omid glanced around the room. Really more of a cage, when he thought about it from a certain point of view that was likely correct. “Yes that is correct.”

“And it happens to have a body of water large enough for you to dive into?”

“No, no I could not dive into it.” Omid said, not looking at the glass array from which the voice was coming even though there was no way to see the old mage and vice versa.

Another pause. “But it is large enough for you to fit comfortably in.”

“Well yes-”

“I am going to need to know if your room has a bath, or a pond.”

Omid shook his head with indignity and a frown. “Does it matter what kind of water is in my room?”

“If it is a bath, it means this being with mastery over earth is likely very wealthy. If it is a purely decorative pond then she is exceedingly wealthy.” Aiz clarified in a jovial tone. “And wealth is power! Power is danger! And I need to know how certain of a death it is that I am sending Karimala and Baz into.”

There was a muffled question of some sort from off in the distance on the other side of the listening glass. It bore a good deal of surprise and anger, though it wasn’t clear enough to determine if it was Karimala or Baz currently shouting at Aiz after it sounded like he muffled his end of the glass with his hand and shouted something unclear back. Which left Omid to dig out a small bit of dry kindling from his bags that had been delivered some time ago, assuming that a lesson in fire would need something to burn.

Far more proactive than trying to listen in on the shouting match that had just finally quieted down.

“Now that we have all that cleared up about the fortune and glory it will bring those who need a little more motivation than secrets of magic and the cosmos heretofore unknown to man!” There was another pause, and Omid could somehow feel the peculiar combination of glare and smile that Aiz was likely casting over his shoulder at the moment. “Is it a decorative pool, or a functional bath.”

Omid gave a deep sigh, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. “It is a bath. A very nice bath that shows an appropriate amount of wealth for a…” He scrunched up his eyes and pursed his lips, shaking his head as he forged onward. “...a princess.”

His words came as a sigh as he waited for Aiz to deem this too dangerous a venture.

“Once again, it seems you have the perfect spirit for playing with fire!” Aiz sounded more...amused than anything else. “Now, are you ready to turn the metaphorical and mental into literal and physical?”

The old mage’s tone dipped into dead seriousness again at the end, catching Omid off guard to leave him to feel like he may never get used to that always abrupt shift.

“Is anyone ever ready?” Omid asked more as a reaction before he could try to articulate something less gloomy.

“Haha no!” And like that, Aiz was back into his jovial tone. Right before an abrupt shift back into solemnity that almost knocked Omid off his feet despite how recent the last instance was. “From the moment he was born, Senef needed air to live from moment to moment. He would hardly make it far without water, and yet water would consume him just as soon as he would do so with it. And from crawling as an infant to standing as he grew, he must tread upon the earth. And finally, he stole fire from the suns and spread it amongst man. Even as he shared this gift, the suns still rise and set. And we follow them. We depend on them”

Omid listened carefully. A story that every child was told recontextualized and given new meaning. He fidgeted where he stood, feeling as though it should have been clearer all along. That he should have thought of it at some point.

“We are of the elements, my boy.” Aiz took a much gentler tone as Omid stared at white stone walls, mentally preparing himself with the occasional resolute nod and determined look. “We are beholden to them because they comprise us. But even in mundane life we control them. See them all as an extension of yourself. The fire of life within you, the air in your lungs, blood running like a river through your veins, and your bones like earth upon which foundations lay. Do you have something flammable that you don’t mind burning, as I instructed?”

“I do.” Omid took a single small twig between his fingers, carefully inspecting it as he held it in front of his face.

“Excellent! And a means to ignite it?”

The young man withdrew a small flint and steel from a pouch on his belt. “As per your instructions, sir.”

“Aiz works just fine, sir makes me feel like an old man!” He said with a hearty laugh, his amusement lasting him several moments before he finally stopped. “Now, that Kirzallan taught you Control of Earth? And you managed just fine didn’t you? Bold. I approve of your choice in women, my boy! But I’m not going to be upstaged by some moon princess so you will be learning Control of Fire. At least in theory. Never taught someone magic under these circumstances!”

Omid wanted to protest, but the old man was as quick as lightning and left no opening to try and correct him on how he had absolutely not chosen Sareen. Who was absolutely not his and nor was he hers. But there was magic to be learned, so of course he had to let that one slip by. He closed his eyes and inhaled through his nose before answering. “I made it this far on willpower and a splash of coffee, I have no choice but to do so.”

Aiz’s toothy grin was audible, even from one of the moons. “Interesting choice of words. What is it that you are going to be burning?”

“A twig?” Omid answered before giving a hard swallow, sensing some cutthroat lesson was afoot.

“About how long?”

Omid eyed it, holding it this way and that and looking for a point of easy reference. He held it up to one of the lit stone sconces providing that harsh pale light filling the room. “About as long as my hand from longest fingertip to wrist.”

“Excellent! That will do just fine!” The old man said. “Now, listen very closely. Listen to the word for Control of fire, and know it well. Let it become second nature to you, in much the same way it would be first nature to a Zallan.”

The old mage spoke the word for Control, and then repeated it for Omid. The young man listened well, noting the similarities and differences of the word to that of Control of Earth.

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“As I speak it here,” Aiz continued. “I take a flame upon a small candle, and push it to burn faster than it normally would. I speak the word again, and I take the flame from the wick and hold it between my fingers. So long as I have spoken Control over it, and it is my flame it will not hurt me. But you, Omid. I believe I have devised a more direct method of learning for you. Light both ends of that twig on fire and hold it between the fingers of your left hand.”

Omid took a moment to process that before rolling up the sleeve on his left hand. No need to burn his new clothes already. “That is a bit on the nose don’t you think? Burning both ends of a candle?” He said as he ensured his sleeve would be staying in place.

“Of course not!” Aiz laughed. “A candle burns slower! Gives you more time to overthink and doubt yourself. You said you have survived this long on will alone, now make your will into reality if you want to keep your fingers from being burned. Reach out, and with your free hand show the fire just what it should be doing instead.”

The young man shook his head and kneeled down onto the floor to light the twig, looking over at the still waters of the bath through the door. “One moment, I need to make this a bit more true to life.” He got up and shut the door before retaking his place kneeling down and lighting a twig on fire in a spot he had cleared any carpets from to leave only stone floor beneath him. Working quickly with his flint and steel, he lit both ends in a small flame and smoke began to rise as they began to burn.

Taking the twig between his fingers, he took a deep breath through his nose, held up his free hand, and made a downward motion with an open palm as he spoke the word for Control.

The flames flickered slightly, but kept burning towards the center of the twig as the smell of burning wood continued to hit Omid’s nose and taunt him.

“Two flames is a more difficult endeavor, I assume…” Omis said aloud as he took another deep breath, smelling the smoke.

“Of course. You cannot rely on mob logic to get an idea going in multiple heads. You are speaking your will directly onto many things. Or perhaps you will divide and conquer. Now hurry, not much time left I’m certain.” And again the grin as he spoke was audible.

Omid shook it off, feeling a drop of sweat run down his head as the twig got shorter and shorter as it burned. He took a half breath and spoke Control once more as he closed his hand into a fist to extinguish one end until it was smoldering and black and too close to his fingers, he spoke Control again in the very next breath and flung his fingers outward as imitating a small explosion as he caused the other end to burn too bright and too fast to be fed by the meager bit of wood. And in the smallest little explosion of flame that reached out and licked his fingers, he felt no heat.

“I haven’t heard any shouts of agony or cries of joy, tell me what’s going on.” Aiz’s voice cut through Omid’s focus, and he stared down at the charred piece of wood and blinked a few times. There was hardly any room left on the small twig to grip without dirtying his fingers with char.

“In one breath, I reduced something to nothing by choking it out, and in the next I fed it until it burst.” He rolled it about in his fingers, carefully inspecting it as he stood and held it up into the light coming in through a high window. “I suppose I do perform well under pressure…”

Aiz gave a warm chuckle. “Why do you think I chose you as my apprentice? When put under pressure, you do not immediately crumble.”

“No I just do that at a later time…” Omid looked away from the glass devices, back over to the door leading to the bath.

“Bah, irrelevant.” Aiz scoffed. “If I am facing down a rockslide and command the rocks to a halt in time to get out of their way, I am no failure when I release my control on them and they continue downward. No failure if I fall down into a bit of stress laughter if I have done so while out of danger. Even if that laughter is to ward off the feelings of panic at having almost died.”

Omid stared at the glass, gleaming in the light of the moons. “This sounds...quite specific.”

“I know it may seem hard to believe, but I too was once young. And not always the master of magic you see before you. Metaphorically seeing, figuratively before you. Possibly the other way around.” Aiz said in his matter of fact way and quickly corrected himself at the end. “Although it sounds as though my specific story is quite relatable?”

Omid cursed himself for being even slightly surprised at Aiz being onto him, pacing about the room in front of the glass devices a few times before speaking. “My own rockslide is lasting more than a few moments or minutes, and she is quite intelligent and unpredictable….and also keeping me from whirlpools and lightning strikes and storms. And if I want to keep those from affecting more people I will stay.”

“You were deep into those metaphors before you lost me completely at the end, what’s this about affecting others?” His voice came in clearer and louder from leaning in. “And do I need to send those two away before you tell me about what I assume to be even greater danger?”

He bit his tongue, glacing away. “Well they might be more motivated to help if they know what’s at stake. Like the wo-”

“Ah! I’ll let you deliver the news so you get shouted at this time. KARIMALA! BAZ! OMID HAS IMPORTANT NEWS FOR YOU!”

Omid held his face in his hand, sighing deeply as he heard them assemble with audible confusion.

“So, got more bad news for us?” Baz joked with a slight laugh that turned into a cough as Omid didn’t return his laugh. “Oh. Oh it is...uh…”

“How bad?” Karimala asked, apprehension audible.

Omid thought it over.

“Well not for a hundred years or so.” There was an audible sigh of relief from the other sigh, and Omid winced as he had to continue. “That was an estimate, it could still be sooner so...within our lifetimes.”

“My boy, I appreciate your optimism about my lifespan but do tell me what horrible fate I shall be leaving to the younger generations?” Aiz said in a polite tone.

The young man bit his tongue again before throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation. “So I witnessed a gathering of The Old Men. Yes, those The Old Men. Of the desert. Of the stone. Of Kir. Whatever you want to call them. They wish to tell a story that will end the world. I didn’t get any more specifics than that but it was enough of a threat that Zallans want to lead an alliance and stop that, because they want the world for themselves. There is going to be a diplomatic meeting soon between the Zallans and what I presume to be their allies, held here to discuss the details of all this.”

As he caught his breath after his hurried speech, there was silence on the other end.

Aiz cleared his throat after what felt like a few minutes. “Karimala, you remember where the wine is don’t you? Good. Go grab a bottle or several. No, quality doesn’t matter here. Baz? Find something good in the kitchen and bring it here. Something that pairs well with whatever wine Karimala finds.”

Omid stared at the ground as he heard them shuffle off without a single protest, with his boot he rubbed away the slight scorch mark until there was no reasonable evidence left of magical experimentation with fire on the pale stone floor. He dragged the ornate carpet back over the spot, looking over the room and making sure all was as it had been. Just to be sure, he put an ear to the wall and listened to make sure there was still no one nearby. Only silence still at this end of the palace, far from passing foot traffic. No one would pass by on accident. The old mage finally speaking once more pulled his attention back to the glass arrangement.

“Alright.” Aiz sounded like he was in a daze still. “This would have been good to know earlier.”

“I was preoccupied with reunions, and happiness and relief washed away a great many worries.” Omid shrugged, still cursing himself for this mistake. “Even the world ending ones.”

“We will need to focus quite a bit more on your magic training, if you’re going to survive an entire party of Zallans.” Aiz said with an amused sigh.

Omid felt a grin creep across his lips, even as his eyes held onto a bit of remorse. “Yes I am quite used to burning at both ends by now.”