“For the last time, I will not teach you how to twist people!” Mr. Oliver leans against the rock at his back, the night sky blinking with stars above him. “And please, stop bringing up the mystic arts when others are so close. Your sister and that friend of yours certainly don’t need to know I twisted someone on your behalf.”

I rub my worn boot into the dirt and look around. “Well, no one is here right now except you and me.” The main camp lies behind us, the bustle of the survivors preparing for bed drifting on the cool breeze. I’m not sure why, but Mr. Oliver spends his nights away from everyone else. And despite his constant complaints during the day, he sleeps on the hard ground at night. “Since no one is here, why don’t you go ahead and tell me how to—” I’m about to say twist again but with the way he’s glaring at me, I just leave my words locked behind my tongue.

“What am I to do with you,” Mr. Oliver covers his eyes with one hand, a low groan escaping him. “Do you plan to harass me over this the whole way to Isren?”

“I just want to know how you do it.” I’ve been going through this routine the last few nights, sneaking away while Mother and Kyna set up our tent. I haven’t told either where I go, but they must know. Just like Mr. Oliver must know that no matter how many times it takes, I’m going to keep asking him until he gives in.

He peeks at me from under his hand. “It’s not called twisting people for one. And even if you had a gift for magic, the aspect of your soul would take on a different shape. Twisting people, as you so love to put it, is not something that can be taught, for everyone’s aspect is different.”

I can’t stop a grin from forming. “And what is an aspect? How do I know what mine is?”

Mr. Oliver opens his mouth, then slams it shut with a dramatic sigh. He stares at me for a moment, then he sits forward and crosses his arms. “Fine then.”

“You’ll teach me?”

“I’ll humor you at the very least. Especially if it gets you off my backside. You’re worse than an Arthan parrot, you know that?”

I’m not sure what a parrot is, but I nod in agreement.

“Truly, you get yourself in the most curious situations,” Mr. Oliver mumbles to himself, rising to his feet with crackling joints. “First thing, not a word about this to anyone. And I mean that, Luther. Both for your safety and mine.”

I stifle a laugh and I’m about to make a half-hearted promise to keep my lips sealed when I notice just how hard his eyes are bearing down on me.

“I’m serious, my little friend. There are many in this world who would kill for the knowledge I possess. And not all practitioners of the mystic arts are as benevolent as I. In fact, it would do you well to assume I am the exception.” He claps his hands together. “Now then, do you agree to keep what I’m about to share to yourself?”

“I will keep it to myself.”

He tilts his head and regards me with a strange, almost sad, expression. “Swear it to me. Or call it an oath if that will better bind you to your word. Whichever is best.”

The air takes on a sudden chill, the night crickets falling silent. “I swear to you, Mr. Oliver, that I won’t tell anyone what we talk about tonight.”

He nods, then blows out his cheeks. “And this will also be an exchange, since, as I recall, you and that Davos boy have been unnaturally tight lipped about what happened earlier atop that hill.”

The oathstone. Just thinking about it fills my body with a strange, tingling energy. And the idea of telling another what I saw, what I felt, what I feel…it sends an icy chill to my bones. But I’ll tell Mr. Oliver about it, if only to learn his secrets.

“Fine,” I say. “I’ll tell you what happened, but only after you tell me about magic.”

“Quite the little haggler, are you? I can accept that. But Luther, there is one final question I must ask before we continue. Possibly the most important one.” He looks at me intently, steel-colored eyes tracing my face like he’s looking for something. “Why do you seek to learn magic? And if, by some miracle, you are capable of it, what will you do with that power?”

I’ve asked myself the same question, but my mind always returns to that moment. The two Hafthan, who had been sneering at me only a moment prior, were filled with fear when they saw what Mr. Oliver was. Magic terrified them, and I want that terror for myself.

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“I will find vengeance,” I answer, broadening my shoulders. “For my father, my brother, and my home.”

Mr. Oliver rubs his chin, little grey hairs falling from his tangled beard. “I feared as much. But you’ve set yourself on this path, and I can tell no amount of wisdom from me can change your course. But using magic to harm others, it comes at a cost.”

“I don’t care about costs. Not anymore.” I rub my palm. After I made my oath, the wound on my hand vanished along with the stone and the oathkeeper. But standing in the empty plot of land that remained, I could feel a distinct sense of loss. Like I had traded away something I didn’t even know I had. There is an emptiness within me now, one that gnaws at me. But even if there is a further price to pay, I will pay it gladly.

“Very well. Let us begin.” Mr. Oliver takes a half step back, and the world changes.

The air twists, spiraling, shimmering like the sun over the water. My skin prickles, stung by a thousand tiny blades. But I stay rooted, watching the space around me bend and buckle, then fall calm again. A dead wind blows, the forest silent like the world itself has paused for breath. Then, all at once, a wave of crackling energy crashes into me. It pours through my limbs, burning beneath the skin. My feet suddenly start moving on their own, turning in place. Just as I’m about to topple from the pressure, Mr. Oliver claps his hands, a lopsided grin on his face.

“You really are something else,” he says amidst ragged breaths.

“What was that?” I ask, my arms and legs suddenly taken by a deep soreness.

“I, as you would say, just tried twisting you.”

“You what?” I shake my legs, the bones in my ankles feeling like they’ve been struck by a mule.

“No need to worry. I stopped before causing you any permanent injury, but tell me, did you see anything just now? In the air I mean.”

I scratch at the side of my head, not sure how to describe it. “It was like the air was humming, sparkling in a way.”

He claps again. “Truly extraordinary.”

I’m about to ask what it means when my legs give out. Luckily, Mr. Oliver catches me right before I fall to the dirt.

“So tired,” I manage to get out.

“It seems I overdid it a bit. Here.” He helps me stumble my way to the rock he was sitting against when I arrived. With my back to it, I slide down until I feel the cold earth beneath my breeches.

“You’ve expended your gate,” he tells me, wiping away the sweat on his forehead with the back of his sleeve. “It will take some time for you to fully replenish it.”

“My gate?” I ask, tongue heavy and dry in my mouth.

He sits on his pack across from me. “It is where magic comes from.” He touches his chest. “All living things have a gate inside them. For most people, this gate is sealed shut. For a small number of others, this gate is cracked open a hair’s width. For an even scarcer group, the gate is constantly held open an arm’s length. Then, for the truly blessed, the gate has no doors.” His hand flicks out, and he lays a gentle palm on my shoulder. “I believe then, based on what you saw, and certainly what I felt, you belong to that second group, Luther. Your gate is open, maybe only by the tiniest of margins, but it is open.”

“Then,” I say, breathing like I just ran up hill. “Does that mean I can do magic, like you?”

“Maybe,” he says, retracting his hand. “Magic comes from the gate, and some is always leaking out. It hovers about the gifted like a fog, or an aura. This aura is invisible unless the mage calls upon their powers, or like in your case, when another tries to impose their aspect onto them. Once activated, the magic of two people cannot exist in the same space. They will battle for dominance, the mage with the best concentration or experience winning out.” He opens his palm, the air about it glinting and swirling. “You must have been born with your gate opened by a small crack. Your whole life it’s been leaking out. But only so much can be drawn at once. Judging by how you resisted my aspect for a moment, I believe you just exhausted all the magic you’ve been collecting in your ten summers of life.”

“That means…”

“Yes. It would take you another decade to produce what I just snuffed out in an instant.”

The words hit hard. To be told you are gifted one moment only for the world to remind you how small you are the next. Perhaps my desires truly were foolish.

“But,” Mr. Oliver gives me a reassuring smile. “A gate that is closed can never be opened, but one that is opened but a hair can be taught to yield with time. It may take many years, and you will never be a powerful mage, but if this is what you truly want, there will come a time where you can wield this power.”

The edges of my vision grow dark, sleep attempting to steal me away. “Then, will you teach me?”

“For a time. But I must go to the capital. I will stay in Isren with you until you learn enough to practice on your own. But I warn you, this is a long and difficult road.”

“I know.” But it doesn’t frighten me. Even if it takes me until the end of my days, I’ll find a way to use this power. “Thank you, Mr. Oliver.”

“No need, dear boy. But look at the state of you. We will go no further this night.” He rises, helping me to my feet. “Return to your family and rest. We will start your training tomorrow.” As I'm about to head down the path, Mr. Oliver puts a gentle hand on my shoulder. "But don't think you're off the hook. I still want to know all the particulars of your oath. Be prepared to share it with me in detail tomorrow after you've had some rest. I've a feeling what happened to you on that hill could be key to your mystic development."

I manage a nod in response, my head and eyelids heavy. Mr. Oliver walks with me on the way back into the main camp, whistling a tune. And though my body yearns for slumber, my heart races. For I take my first steps on the path of power. I know I’m weak, both in mind and body, but I can change. This may be the first night on my long journey toward strength, but there will be more nights, more secrets unearthed in the dark. And at the end of it all I can see my oath fulfilled, the Hafthan destroyed. I smile, knowing somehow that my enemies’ days are numbered.