There she was, me and her enveloped in a passionate hug. It had been happening more and more often, until there was nothing else left. No longer did I dream, I watched myself dream. I did not a feel body against mine, but watched my skinny, tall self being hugged. Watched my dark, scraggly hair being petted and caressed. The love of Vera I once felt fully in my dreams, I observed it happen from afar and that was it.

The terrace, or rather a large balcony, watched all over the bustling city of Karan. Hands crossed, the ruler of the city, Archmage Ilai Aomen looked down upon it on a gilded chair. After leading me through a blocked passageway and a sigil that worked as a teleport to a fixed place, the Apprentice left us be on the Archmage’s orders. I stood still, he sat dormant, as we both gazed upon the goings-on of Karan proper.

Street stands selling their plums and breads, wandering adventurers looking for the next payroll, laborers cleaning the streets, blacksmiths banging with their hammers, and bards picking on their lutes and blowing on their flutes -- everything ran as it should have beneath the damp light of the tower. Somewhere there were my betrayer and my torturer, my past aspirations and hopes. Forever lost, splattered bloody trail on a back alley to be forgotten and abandoned.

“Sit down,” the Archmage said, his unwavering attention staying fully on the view.

There were two chairs next to him and I chose the one closer to him. Cushioned to the extreme, sitting on it felt like all the past and present tensions I had had disappeared. Floating on a cloud, the emotion invoked.

Taking a sip from a half-filled goblet, the Archmage winced. Next to the glass lay a pipe which he took up, filled its chamber and lit it with a wave of his hand. Eyes on the barely noticeable stars and space above, Ilai took his time with the pipe, little clouds popping out and quickly after fading away. The smell of tobacco, it overtook me.

“Soon,” he opined, seeming to address no one in particular, “soon it will all end… Hah! Nature of men will have its way, in the end, I wonder, I do. What I will thrust upon Galel I fear may be too much, but I trust him. Hundred years have trained him well. Tumultuous are these times, or rather, so I they will become. By my hand. But you, you serve a different purpose, a different painting all together. Say, Jay, what do you want? What do you desire?”

“A smoke,” I said in jest, my past craving cramping my muscles.

Raising his eyebrows, the Archmage sneered and passed on his pipe to me. “Have at it! Ignorance can be endearing, nevertheless, the question remains. What is it that holds your flame afloat the waters and how far are you willing to go for it to remain aflame?”

A moment went past, then a second, as I thought and thought. In the end, only one thing seemed certain, looked as if it held any driving force within me. “Power. Strength. I want to be stronger whether it be by magic or any other mean. How far then… till the end I think. I can’t see myself caring for anything really, so what do I have to lose? I don’t know but that’s the best I got.”

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“Why,” the Archmage asked with unexpected forcefulness as he turned to face me. “You seek power, need it, crave it -- why? To what end? Revenge? Glory? Domination? Power is not a goal, it is a tool, a hammer to hit with or a arcane focus to cast with, nothing more. What is this Jay going to hit with the hammer when he gets it? Power to what, Jay, power to what?”

I did not know. No matter how hard I tried, I could not find anything. Maybe I wanted power because of this, I thought, or that, to make a name for myself or to be admired. Whatever passed my mind, they did not cut, were false, had no emotion behind them. Nothing had. Before I knew it, Ilai answered the question for me.

“So there exists the want, but alas, no greater meaning to it. Irrelevant to me, better even, for as in power you are but a tool as well. Galel has not spoken much of you, but what I have heard has been to my liking. Plans I had for you have expanded, at first there was nothing but a wish to pry a little further into your story for my own amusement, to certify my hunch and to satisfy my curiosity, and to that end: who are you and where do you come from? Tell me everything and you shall have your meaningless power.”

Without any hesitation I laid my life in front of the Archmage Ilai Aomen, who silently listened to my evert tangent and ramble. From my banal childhood to my self-seclusion of later years, depressive and destructive thoughts, the world around me as I saw it back then with warts and all, I gave him everything. Vera got mentioned as well, as was her meaning to me, nothing was out of bounds. Talking about her for the first time of my life did not feel like it should have, or like it once may have been -- it was just like with everything else, another bland topic with no baggage of any kind. Not pleasant at all, but then again, it was not unpleasant either.

Ilai did not bat an eyelid when I spoke of her, or my pointless suffering and self-imposed hurdles, no, he simply looked down into the city. Only when I mentioned cars or few other machinery or technological achievements did he in any way look like he was listening. The figure that pushed me elicited a response as well, peaked his interest even. “What a pathetic being. Tell me about this figure… what did it look like?”

“I can’t remember much,” I said, “just the heavy cloak and that voice -- there was definitely something in there but I have no idea what.”

“We can discuss it on a later date, all of this. You are not the only traveler. Continue.”

I explained my joy and hopes when seeing the city, that everything looked like a dream I had always wanted to be in. Spoke of the betrayer Bhalil, of my time in the dungeon and my sudden change.

“Broken,” the Archmage said with a tone of recognition. “Or, one could say, purged of the burden of attachments. That will be of use, of great value to you, for now. Power is what you wanted, right? Hmph! What an excellent plaything. Begone and continue your training under Galel, soon you will be under the tutelage of another. Take the pipe and seek him, he should be waiting for you. Ask for a covering for that hideous eye while you are at it.”

The Apprentice had been waiting behind the terrace door, keeping tabs on our conversation. He made no effort to hide his presence, audibly to everyone asking me to follow him. We were heading to the city, and for the first time in months, the double doors to the tower opened and I was to leave through them, to witness my lost Eden with a pair of new eyes. Or rather, an eye.