Year: 3045 AGD

Midwinter Festival

Serenity Valley

The Midwinter Festival was finally here, and with it came the dance the entire Institute had been talking about for the past month. Shawnrik was fairly certain he had never felt so nervous before in his life. Surely it was a great day to be alive. He and Verrian had been trying to keep themselves occupied as the hours counted down to when the dance would begin, but each time they found themselves glancing from the clock to the suits that hung up behind each of them and then to each other, and each time they grinned like idiots before trying to focus on the cards in front of them only to repeat the same process a few minutes later.

That day dragged out forever. Surely this is the longest day anyone has ever lived, Shawnrik thought, unable to imagine circumstances more nerve-racking than this. He won two and lost one long, drawn-out, game of cards before it was time for them to get ready for the dance. They showered and checked their hair in the mirror a dozen times before heading back to their room to change.

Verrian’s suit was a light blue color just a few shades off from his ring. They had held a long discussion earlier in the day on whether his purple sapphire cufflinks would go well with the suit or not and they had both determined that they didn’t understand fashion well enough to have an opinion. After dressing, they wandered back to the bathroom to make sure that everything looked right, even though they assured each other that they looked fine.

Waiting for them outside were four very stunning young women. Vivianne stood on the far left wearing a dark orange dress that seemed to be missing a fair amount of fabric on both the top and the bottom. Her shoulders and chest were well displayed, the whole thing was seemingly held aloft by two small strips of cloth. Next to her stood Rebecca, who was wearing a blue dress the same color as her eyes. It was slightly more modest than Vivianne’s dress, higher in the chest, but still showing her shoulders, while the bottom fanned out well past her knees. This dress didn’t have the two strips of fabric that Vivianne’s had, and Shawnrik thought it must be held aloft by magic.

Next to Rebecca and standing slightly back was Syranna, who was wearing a yellow dress that seemed to be a mix between Rebecca and Vivianne’s dresses. It was lower cut than Shawnrik had ever expected to see on the usually reserved elf, but he thought it made her green eyes sparkle. She kept looking down at herself whenever the hem of her dress brushed her knees. When she saw him looking in her direction, she smiled slightly and took another step back.

Last but certainly not least, in Shawnrik’s eyes, was Olivia, who wore a silky dress that was closer to red than purple and flowed down around her feet. The top was like Rebecca’s and didn't have any straps, held aloft by some secret art. She held a long piece of cloth that was made from the same fabric as her dress wrapped around her back and over each wrist. He thought she looked like some sort of gypsy queen.

“I’m pretty sure that means we look good, too,” Vivianne said with a smirk.

Shawnrik only realized after she spoke that he and Verrian had both stopped walking and stood slack-jawed staring at the girls. Olivia, Rebecca, and Vivianne flowed towards them, smiles lighting their faces, but Syranna’s face was a bright red as she trailed behind the three.

“Ladies, you all look exquisite tonight,” Shawnrik said as he took hold of Olivia’s outstretched arm. “Especially you,” he managed to whisper as she took her place beside him.

“Damn right,” she whispered back while her left eyebrow rose slightly.

“Ladies,” Verrian squeaked.

“Oh look, he’s tongue-tied,” Vivianne said.

“Don’t tease him, he might run away,” Rebecca replied.

“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” Shawnrik said over his shoulder as they began to move towards the hall where the dance was being held.

“Why’s that?” Olivia asked with a twinkle of humor in her eye.

“Do you see that grin on his face? I don’t think there’s any place he’d rather be.”

“What about you?” Syranna asked from slightly behind Olivia’s left.

“Is there any place I’d rather be?” Shawnrik’s mind wandered for a moment as he wondered where his friend was now. He shook his head. “No.”

“Liar.” Olivia breathed and looked disappointed for a moment before her smile returned. “Remember, we are living in the now. Let’s make this a night we’ll never forget!”

The people of Verge seemed to take the bonfire in the middle of town as a reason to start the Midwinter Festivities early and had been well into getting themselves good and drunk by the time the boy made it back to them. As luck would have it that had meant that there was a horse left unattended near a building he thought might be an Inn. He had hopped into the saddle of the massive beast and found that his body seemed to know what to do even if his mind didn’t.

That had been many hours ago, though, and the horse was now in a full lather as they trotted along the roadside. It was late afternoon by the time he saw two specks resolve in front of him on the road ahead. As he neared them, he let out a sigh of frustration. He didn’t know what Stewart Cantel looked like, since he had only caught a glimpse of the man from a distance in the dark, but he had a feeling that the man he had seen wouldn’t be casually strolling down the road heading north. Not only that, but the man had a girl who he thought might be around the same age as himself with him.

“Excuse me,” the boy said as he brought the horse to a walk.

“Yes, young man, how may I help you?” the man asked as he turned, annoyance flickering across his features.

The girl’s mouth dropped open for a moment before the man dropped his hand on her shoulder. She flinched and looked up at him before looking down.

“Sorry to bother you, but have you seen a man go by? He might have been followed by a dozen men.”

“No, we haven’t seen anything like that, have we Ana?” The man squeezed the girl’s shoulder.

“No, nothing like that,” the girl said keeping her eyes pointed towards the ground.

Something was off about these two, but whatever it was he didn’t have time for it right now. Cantel must have left the road somewhere along the way. If the boy was lucky, he might be ahead of the pursuit. Of course, if he wasn’t lucky the man would already be dead, and the boy would be lost in the forest for hours.

“Here,” the boy said as he dismounted. “I have been riding at a trot fairly steadily for half a day now, so you might want to give her a lot of rest before you try to use her.” He handed the surprised man the reigns.

“Where are you going?” the girl asked, her tone slightly odd.

“Into the forest to see an old friend, I suppose.”

The two stood there looking at him like he was mad for a moment before he turned and started towards the trees at a jog. Once he neared the forest he spoke. “Hey Cypheria, if you are paying attention, mind giving me a signal on which way to go?” A moment passed, he sighed. Then, a loud crack like a tree limb breaking came from the southwest. That works.

Stewart Cantel had been fairly certain he was about to die. He had managed to take out two more of the assassins in the last few hours, but three of the Dracairei were still alive. One of the Dracairei had managed to get ahead of him and sprung out of the bushes in a spot where there was a large tree blocking the path to either side. He had turned around to see another Dracairei standing on a tree branch ten feet behind him.

Taking a deep breath, he was about to engage the one on the ground and try to break through him when suddenly the branch that the one in the tree had been standing on snapped. The assassin tried to grab another nearby branch but missed. He tried to tuck into a roll as he hit, but one of the smaller branches from the fallen limb caught his shoulder and tossed him several feet into a heap. It wasn’t much of an opening, but it was enough for Stewart Cantel to break free from the trap and continue the running battle.

He tossed a dagger at the Dracairei that had managed to cut him off, and in the same instant he began moving again. Though he was loath to lose any more of his daggers—he was running low on them—it was a necessary loss. The assassin attempted to grab the dagger out of the air, but only managed to bump the end of the blade as it sailed past his hand. That bump managed to change what could have been a potentially fatal hit into an annoying distraction as the blade penetrated the Dracairei’s upper arm.

Knowing he didn’t have time to stop and finish either one of them off, especially because there was a third assassin somewhere nearby, Stewart Cantel ran off into the trees. His body was far beyond the point of exhaustion, but every time he thought it would give out on him he managed to pull just a little bit more from it. One way or another, this pursuit needed to end soon. Patting his body as he ran he realized he only had three daggers left out of the twelve he had begun the day with.

Cantel saw a flash of movement coming from the left, and that was the only warning he had as the third Dracairei leapt at him. Managing to grab the assassin's outstretched wrist, he used the Dracairei’s momentum against him and stepped to the side as the man flew through the air. A sickening crack sounded from the assassin's hand, and the dagger he had been holding fell to the ground. To the Dracairei’s credit he didn’t flinch as his wrist broke, instead bringing his other arm around to strike.

A sharp pain jolted through Cantel from just under his right armpit. Cantel's short sword erupted out of the assassin’s chest as he impaled the man from behind. The dagger in his side fell out to the ground, its tip crimson. He was suddenly having issues breathing. The bastard punctured a lung. Knowing his time was up, he looked around for a better place to meet the two assassins that were left.

Knowing there were up to seven highly trained killers running around in the forest somewhere ahead made him take each movement from tree to tree very seriously. After running around on the ground for some time, the boy realized that he would never be able to see anything moving through the forest unless it was right on top of him, so he climbed a tree and began to move along the intersecting branches as best he could.

He caught sight of movement ahead and managed to catch the tail end of a short human—who he thought must be Stewart Cantel—fighting a Dracairei. This Dracairei and the one he had seen earlier this morning in Verge looked different from the ones he had seen in his vision from the Mage Tyrdra. They were much less reptilian looking and would be more difficult to tell what they were if you just caught a glimpse of them.

The Dracairei had managed to stick his dagger in the human’s side, but he opened himself up to attack as he did so. Cantel managed to pull one of his short swords with his left hand and rammed it into the assassin's back. After a few moments, he looked around quickly and headed towards a stand of closely grouped trees and put his back to them, pulling out his other sword.

The man didn’t look like he was doing too well. There were a dozen places all across his body where the clothing was cut and stained crimson. Although the boy knew that some of that blood wasn’t the man’s, enough of it was that it had taken its toll on his body. Not only that, but the man seemed to be having trouble breathing, because he winced slightly every time he took in a breath.

Moving with more caution than he ever had before, the boy crept along the uppermost tree branches to try to get a view of the fight that Cantel seemed to know was coming. After a dozen long heartbeats, two forms slid out of the bushes and began to stalk towards the lone human.

“Come on then, which of you wants to join me in death first?” Stewart Cantel asked, his face a mask of determination.

“Be honored, High Commander—I have never heard of a man killing so many of our kind by himself. Your efforts will be remembered,” one of the Dracairei said with a note of respect in his voice.

“Yeah, well that implies one of you is going to live to tell the tale,” Cantel replied with a grin.

The two Dracairei snarled, each holding a pair of daggers as they rushed forward to meet the High Commander of the Protectorate. As they moved forward, each step they took seemed to make them move slower until the point where they were still several steps away from the man and they seemed to be crawling through the air. Looking down, he noticed that the man’s movements were also barely perceptible.

Suddenly, the action rushed back into full speed and the Dracairei leapt at Stewart Cantel in a flurry of strikes. Cantel held them off well for several seconds, but it was clear who was going to win. The High Commander struck at one, taking him in the thigh, but the other moved in and slit his throat. With a look of surprise, Stewart Cantel slid to the ground in defeat.

Remove one of the manacles and we can save him.

An intense vertigo struck the boy as what he had just seen dissolved in front of him to be replaced by the Dracairei rushing in once again to attack the High Commander. This time the fight lasted a while longer as Stewart Cantel took a more defensive position and used the space to his advantage. He managed to divert one of the assassin's strikes wide and took a shot in the arm from the other Dracairei before impaling the one who had struck him with his short sword. A moment later, the other Dracairei hopped on his back and slit his throat. Once again, the High Commander slid to the ground in defeat.

You know what needs to be done.

Different scenarios played out before his eyes again and again, and in each one the High Commander died; no matter what Stewart Cantel tried, he ended up cold on the ground. In one of the images, he was able to get a killing blow on both of the Dracairei, but in doing so he had taken two daggers and died with them. In only one of the flashes did the High Commander manage to escape the fight alive, and it was the one that scared the boy the most.

After witnessing the fight a dozen times, the boy blinked and saw the assassins once again moving slowly towards the High Commander. Reaching down he pulled with all of his might and the manacle on his left wrist broke into two parts. Do it!

He felt the creature’s excitement as it began to pull in the energy it needed. His perception shifted as his mind connected with the tree he was standing on, and then with the tree next to it, and finally to the third tree in the stand. The first blows of the fight were about to begin when suddenly several tree branches shot forth and impaled the assassins, dragging their bodies towards the trunks of the two outer trees. The trunks of the trees opened wide like a horrible wooden maw and then closed on the bodies of the assassins as the branches placed them inside.

“What in the nine hells?” Stewart Cantel said as he watched the trees eat his opponents. The High Commander looked all around himself for a moment before finally looking up. Recognition dawned on his face, followed by several other emotions that finally settled back onto determination.

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“Well, shit,” Cantel said as he stared up at the boy. “I should have known you’d show up at the strangest time.” He pointed to the trees that were now oozing with the blood of the Dracairei. “What the hell was that?”

The boy was surprised to find that the creature released its hold on his mind with a contented sigh after the two assassins were dealt with, and it took him a few moments to form his thoughts into words.

“That…” the boy said, “…was me saving your life.”

“Yeah, well thanks, but sorry to disappoint you, but unless you know how to repair a punctured lung and stop that crap they have on their weapons that is making my feet and side all tingly, I think you’ve only prolonged my death for a short while.” The High Commander put his back against the trunk of the tree that hadn’t eaten an assassin and slid down to have a seat.

Dropping to the ground, the boy picked up the two halves of his manacle and wrapped it back around his arm. A thin light appeared for a moment, and when it died out a line of silver ran from one end of the manacle to the other. He sighed in relief.

“You mean I went to all that trouble to find you and you are just going to die on me anyway?” the boy asked. “What’s the point of that? Why did Cypheria even tell me to go after you then?”

Stewart Cantel’s eyes went wide when the boy mentioned Cypheria, but a moment later realization dawned on him. “That clever bitch.”

“What?”

“Well, there is a way I might be able to continue helping you even after I’m dead…” Stewart Cantel said as he reached for his pack.

Serenity Valley

A steady flow of well-dressed students made their way towards one of the larger buildings on campus. He knew that it was usually used as one of the cafeterias on campus. It was close to the girl’s dorms, so that was who used it most, but it could also be used by any of the students who had classes on the eastern end of the campus. This term he hadn’t had any classes near enough to the building to take any of his meals there, and therefore he had yet to be inside.

“Do they use this building for any classes?” Shawnrik asked as they turned onto the walkway that led to the large double doors at the front of the building.

“There are some dance classes,” Olivia said. “Ballet, ballroom dancing, that sort of thing.”

“It is also used for gymnastics,” Syranna said from behind.

Shawnrik had tried to get the quiet Elf to move up beside Olivia, but she had quietly fallen back behind shortly thereafter.

“Gymnastics are physical conditioning courses; they require a great amount of strength and agility to be able to perform,” Verrian supplied. He was getting pretty good at knowing when Shawnrik was about to ask what something was.

“Really?” Shawnrik said. “That sounds interesting.”

“You should see Syranna do some of her routines, it is pretty impressive,” Rebecca said.

Syranna made a sound that almost made him think she was strangling for a second, and when he turned around she was bright red.

“I’d like to see that,” Shawnrik said.

“There’s an exhibition at the end of each term you could go to,” Vivianne said. Shawnrik couldn’t see her face, but her tone was the same one she used when she found something funny.

“Stop it, all of you,” Olivia said, gripping Shawnrik’s arm a little tighter. “Didn’t you guys decide that Verrian, Rebecca, and Vivianne should enter first?”

“Oh, right,” Shawnrik said as he followed Olivia to the side of the trail as they neared the doors.

“Thanks,” Verrian said, a bead of sweat running down his forehead. Shawnrik knew that his roommate was in good enough condition to not be sweating from the walk across campus, so he knew Verrian was nervous.

“Don’t worry about it,” Shawnrik said. “We’ll be right behind you.”

Verrian nodded.

“Do you want to go in with them Syr?” Olivia asked Syranna.

“No, I’ll just slip in behind you guys, if that’s okay.”

“That’s fine,” Olivia said, giving her friend a small smile that seemed almost sad to Shawnrik.

They entered the building several steps behind Verrian and the girls. Shawnrik had never seen a building like this one. It was kind of like the building that they ate their meals in everyday, but several times larger. Not only that, but instead of a stone floor the flooring looked to be wood that had been waxed to a sheen. There were thousands of students in the massive hall, but it didn’t feel crowded and there was plenty of room to move about still. The stone walls on the inside of the building had been painted with various murals of sprawling vistas that he thought he would like to look at without all of the people in the room.

When Verrian entered, heads began to turn in his direction as people began to nudge their neighbors. Normal conversation died out, replaced by a dull roar of whispered conversations. Shawnrik was proud of his roommate, who kept his head up and walked into the room like he owned the place. Rebecca and Vivianne moved a little closer to Verrian and smiled brightly as the heads began to turn in their direction.

Olivia had stopped Shawnrik before the doorway, allowing Verrian and his dates to draw the attention of the room fully before she gave his arm a squeeze and started walking. Her bearing was regal as she began to move forward, and Shawnrik straightened his back and tried being a match to her as much as possible. There was no doubt in his mind that he failed to look anywhere near as magnificent as she did, but he felt he owed her the attempt.

The whispers that had followed Verrian into the room died out as Shawnrik and Olivia entered. The hateful looks that the men in the room had been throwing the Half-Elf were replaced by wide eyed stares. From the looks on many of their faces Shawnrik, wished he could see their entrance from the perspective of the rest of the students.

As they moved deeper into the room, a voice broke the silence.

“Oh look, Aerick’s son has graced us with his presence.”

Shawnrik knew the voice immediately and turned his head to face the Stroml’dier.

“I’ve given you a dozen opportunities to talk to me over the last month, and this is where you decide you want to do this?” Shawnrik sighed and moved his body so that he was in between Rigael and Olivia.

“You come into this school and act all high and mighty,” Rigael said. “Even the Headmistress makes a big deal about it on the first day…”

“I had no idea she was going to do that.” Shawnrik tried to maintain a calm composure.

“You aren’t special.” Rigael poked his finger into Shawnrik’s chest as he stepped forward. “Your father wasn’t special either, even if he and the rest of the world thought so.”

Shawnrik noticed several bulky forms making their way through the crowd behind Rigael as he replied. “I don’t expect anyone to treat me any differently from anyone else. However, I do expect a certain amount of respect.” His fists clenched. “If you want to talk about the differences our fathers had you know where to find me, but we're not talking about it here and now.”

Rigael snarled and pulled back his arm. A large meaty hand grabbed the Stroml’dier's arm before he could throw the punch, however.

“Apprentice of Dunnagan, is this young barbarian bothering you?” the Orc who held Rigael’s arm in place asked calmly as two other Orcs stepped up behind him and folded their arms. Rigael tried to move his arm, but the Orc was obviously much stronger than the young Stroml’dier. After a moment, he gave up trying to free his arm and stared daggers at the Orc holding his arm.

“This isn’t your fight, Blood Orc,” Rigael spat.

“I don’t believe that this is anyone’s fight,” the Orc replied. “I also don’t believe that this is the time or a place for such a thing, even if your reasons were valid.”

Looking around at all the eyes on him, Rigael looked like he might put up a fight anyway, but then his gaze locked with the disappointed look on his sister’s face, and his head fell slightly.

“Fine,” Rigael said, tugging his arm free as the Orc loosened his hold. “This conversation isn’t over though, son of Aerick.” With that, he turned and pushed his way out of the room.

“Poor young man, all of that hate and he’s directing it towards the wrong people,” the Orc said quietly as Rigael left.

“Yeah,” Shawnrik said. “Thank you for the help. Without your intervention, it would have turned into a brawl and ruined the night.” He stuck out his hand.

“It's of no consequence,” the Orc said. “We have heard from Thaddius about you, and wanted to meet the man who Dunnagan chose to teach for ourselves anyway.” The three Orcs placed their right arms over their chests and bowed slightly. “If you ever have need of us, we will be there.”

Shawnrik stared at the trio, unsure what to say for a few moments. Before he could ask them their names, they had turned and began to move back through the crowd.

“Well, that could have gone a lot worse.” Olivia said, moving up beside him. “It’s nice to know Thaddius hasn’t forgotten about us.”

“Yeah, I never thought I’d ever be grateful to another Orc,” Shawnrik said as he watched the backs of his retreating benefactors. Knowing that there was one cultured Orc out in the world had required Shawnrik to change his view of the world, but not nearly so much as the confirmation that there was indeed an entire tribe of them. Shaking off his newest revelation, Shawnrik turned to his date and in a loud enough voice that those near him could hear as well he said. “I believe this is supposed to be a dance?”

The music started up not long after and Shawnrik offered his hand to Olivia, who accepted is elegantly. It would be their first of many dances together that evening.

“So, what you are saying is that if I read this scroll, the Arch Magus of the Protectorate is going to show up and put you inside of me?” the boy asked. He hoped his tone told the High Commander exactly what he thought about the idea.

“In so many words, yes,” Stewart Cantel replied. “Though he’s not really going to show up, it will just be a projection of his will. I’m not certain exactly all that he can accomplish with this Shaping, but I think it will work. This is something that has been done to quite a few of the High Commanders in the past when a new High Commander takes over.”

“And why would I want to do this? I already have one voice in my head that doesn’t like to behave.”

Stewart Cantel raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

The boy sighed. “It is a long story. Suffice to say, the gods did something stupid at my birth and my mind created a self-defense mechanism to blunt the damage. That’s who took care of those Dracairei that were attacking you, and no I have no idea how he did it.”

“Ah, well, that sounds like another reason for you to do this, then. I might be able to help you keep it contained. With my will and yours combined, we should be able to at least put it back in its cage if it does get loose.”

“Yeah, maybe. It took a whole tribe of Quaelyne to help me do it last time. I have no idea why he isn’t in control right now. He seemed satisfied after he made those trees eat the assassins, though.” He looked down at the new line of silver running across each side of his left manacle. “These things seem to help keep him contained as well.”

“Aren’t those the manacles that you were trying to steal when Nim found you?” Stewart asked.

“Oh right, you don’t know that part yet either,” the boy said. “I don’t have any memories from before I woke up in a mine north of here sometime last year. None that are mine, at least.”

The High Commander let loose a string of curses. “You mean you came all the way out here and helped me without even remembering who I was?”

“You and the old squad,” the boy replied. “Za’erath and Za’kereth were rescuing Elandria and Rundig when I left. I helped them draw one of the Dracairei out and then came after you.”

Stewart Cantel stared at him for a moment before he began to laugh. It turned into a wracking cough a few moments later, but even without air in his lungs he continued to laugh.

“Hey, I did help!” the boy said, thinking that the High Commander was laughing at him.

“No,” Stewart Cantel breathed out, trying to get his laughter and breathing under control. “I’m laughing because even without your old memories, you are just as reckless and courageous as you were when I first met you.”

“Oh,” the boy said. “That’s alright then.”

“Now,” the High Commander said as he took a shallow breath. “I can feel this crap creeping through my body, so it might be best if you get on with it if you are going to. Otherwise, I’d appreciate it if you’d help me end it quickly.”

Faced with the choice of having to kill the man or have him riding around in his head, he decided that he would rather not have to stab the High Commander. “Alright,” the boy said as he began to unroll the scroll. He knew he had never seen anything like the flowing script that unrolled before him, but he also understood every character.

Speaking the words slowly, he felt a tingling run up his hands and stop at his wrists, which began to heat up way too quickly. Suddenly, the bottom of the left manacle fell apart right where the line of silver was and the right manacle began to crack and break apart as well. As the right manacle began to break loose he tried to stop speaking, afraid that whatever was contained inside of him would get loose if the manacle fell, but found he was unable to stop the incantation.

With a loud clatter, the right manacle fell to the ground. Now, both of his silvery wrists were exposed to the world. He could see the High Commander looking at the silver scales with interest before a blindingly bright light burst from the scroll.

“Well, Stewart, I can’t say I’m surprised you had to use this,” a glowing shape of a man said. The man was currently facing away from them, and as he turned the resolute face of the Arch Magus turned to surprise. “Victor? What in the name of all that is good and holy are you doing?”

“It was my idea,” Stewart Cantel said weakly. “I told him to use it. I want you to take as many useful things from me and give them to him.”

“Really?" the Arch Magus asked. His tone told them that he was more intrigued than put out by the idea. The transparent image of the Arch Magus stood for a moment in quiet thought. “He’s too young, so I don’t think I’ll be able to do much physically. Maybe not even mentally if his brain hasn’t developed enough.”

“Just do what you can,” the High Commander said.

“Is that an order, Stewart?” the grinning form of the Arch Magus said.

Stewart gave a grunting laugh. “As if I could ever order you to do anything—even if you are technically under my command.”

“Ah, wisdom in the final moments of life; it's a pity it took so long.”

“Gallows humor, Simon, really?”

“Live as long as I have and you see a lot of friends die,” the Arch Magus said, his smile faltering. “Sometimes I think it is the only humor I have left.”

“Cry me a river, you old goat,” Stewart Cantel said, which drew a short laugh from the Arch Magus. “I’m the one dying here. This is my pity party; go find your own on your own time.”

“You two are odd,” the boy said.

“Victor my boy, you should know that already,” Simon Windsbane said.

“Memory block,” Stewart said. “Wow, I bet you are tired of explaining that to people.”

“You have no idea.”

“Well, that makes things even more interesting,” the Arch Magus said. “Alright, let’s get to work and see what we can do here.”

The tingling sensation started in the boy’s arm again as the image of the Arch Magus reached out to touch him. This time, however, it quickly spread throughout his body. He felt a compulsion to move over next to Stewart Cantel and his body responded almost instantly. Arch Magus Simon Windsbane reached out with his other ethereal hand and placed it on Stewart Cantel’s forehead. They stood like that for several minutes as the Arch Magus studied each of them.

The boy was expecting the thing that lived inside his mind to lash out or try to block the Arch Magus, but the attack never came. Before he could even begin to wonder at the creature’s motives, the ghostly image of the Arch Magus stepped back, cutting off its contact.

“Alright, we can do this,” the Arch Magus said. “His brain is definitely far enough developed to handle the transfer. In fact, if I didn’t know any better, I might even say it has developed in just such a way to be able to handle such things with ease.”

“Maybe the gods know what they are doing after all,” Stewart Cantel said.

“Perhaps,” the Arch Magus said, though his voice didn’t sound like he thought it was likely. “Either way, we can continue with the procedure. I’m afraid that there isn’t much I can do physically. He’s still developing, and it looks like he’s going to be quite the warrior when he’s finished regardless. However, I can deposit samples of your muscles and blood so that his body can incorporate them into his growth and perhaps develop some of that speed you are renowned for.”

“Well, it’s better than nothing,” Stewart Cantel said. “Let’s get this over with.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “Also, would you tell Elyse that I’m dead, so she can take command, or at least try to foist it onto Nim’s shoulders?”

“I can do that, my friend. It has been an honor.” Turning to the boy, he said. “This is going to hurt, but I’ll do what I can to limit the pain. I will also attempt to do what I can for the block in your memories, but without knowing exactly what was done, all I can do is weaken it a little. If we tried to do any more than that we’d risk damaging something irreparably. Your mind knows what to do better than I do.”

“Alright,” the boy said.

“When you wake up, Stewart Cantel will be dead, but you will have all of his memories…”

“Hopefully not all of them,” the High Commander laughed.

“Alright, most of his memories,” Simon Windsbane said and grinned back at his friend. “I’m pretty sure I know the ones you’d rather take with you to the grave.”

Stewart Cantel nodded.

Turning back to the boy, the Arch Magus continued. “Though you will have his memories and a facsimile of his personality in your mind, know that Stewart Cantel will be dead. After a time, his voice will fade and he will fully become a part of you. Utilize his knowledge and experience while you can, and learn what he has to teach you. When it is gone, believe me—you will miss it.”

The Arch Magus reached out once again and put a translucent hand on each of their foreheads. “Goodbye, old friend,” he said, and the world went black.