The door slammed tightly behind them, locking Murphy and Margo into the darkness. In a moment of panic, he whirled around and started frantically searching for the handle. He stumbled in the black when his hands failed to find anything. The door behind him a moment before was gone. He turned to look for Margo, but couldn't see her anymore either.

"Margo?" He called cautiously, but received silence in response.

He felt for his bag, and placed his hand onto his ledger box. With a thought, he summoned a light stick and pulled it free. With a twist of the shaft, he connected the small crystal inside to the light producing rune at the top. The device was a tool of his own design, so he was confident he could use it blind. He felt the tingle of the magic flowing through, but still saw nothing. Trying to stay calm, he slowly moved the light stick closer to his face. Soon enough, he was holding the hot end against his nose, but still saw nothing.

"Okay Margo. What the fuck?" He sputtered, losing his composure. "I can't see anything. Where did you go?" He started to look around frantically to no avail, clearly allowing his panic to take hold. "I don't know what to do," he blubbered. "Where's Uundah? What do I do?"

Everything he'd been hiding away came crashing down. He felt weak since his fight with the dragon, but kept his usual brave smile. It was easy to pretend, because he could still hold up a front. Being as blind to light as he was to magic was too much to bear. He whimpered, and collapsed to his knees. "I don't know what to do," he moaned through a cascading sob.

He pressed his hands to his face and gave in, allowing himself to weep through the pain in the darkness.

"Alright," an irritated voice cut through the emptiness. "That's enough of that."

Murphy sucked in a breath, realising suddenly that being blind wasn't the same as being alone. He closed his eyes tightly, and wiped the tears away. Standing, he turned to face the source of the voice.

"My gods boy. You were truly blind a matter of moments. What's your worth, for you to give in as fast as a widowed farmer's wife," the voice complained. "And open your eyes. Truly, you must be having me for a fool."

Murphy slowly opened his eyes. He had to clear more water from his face to see through the blur, but soon enough he could make out his surroundings. They were in a simple study. Bookshelves lined the walls, and a large desk sat in the centre in front of a tall dirty window. Margo stood beside the desk with her hands held politely behind her back. At the desk sat an older looking man with long jet-black hair. He sat with his fingers steepled in front of his face, and a scowl painted plainly behind them.

"I wanted to see your resolve," the man continued, standing from his seat. He wore a silver grey robe decorated in golden embroidery. The garb was something you'd find in the highest of nobility, and the prospect made the Warlock nervous. He paced around to the front of the desk to get a closer look at the scared young man in front of him. "Whatever spirit I've heard you have seems to be spent. I'm not even sure you're the right one," he turned to look at Margo. "Did you bring me the wrong one?"

She sighed, and shook her head. "He looks better on paper," she complained.

"How disappointing," he groaned, looking back at Murphy. "You brought him to me all broken."

"I'm not one of your hips, old man," Murphy scoffed, snapping out of his misery. "If you keep talking about me like I'm not here, I'll show you a broken thing or two."

Margo's face went white and her eyes grew wide. Murphy caught her expression, and suddenly felt less brave.

The older man stepped towards him, showing his towering stature in a more obvious manner. He stood above the now silent Warlock, and stared down into his emerald eyes.

"Did you just threaten me, boy?" He asked with excited eyes.

Murphy glanced at Margo shaking her head. He looked back to the man above him and considered his response. Eventually, he shrugged.

"I suppose I did," he answered with a smile.

The man squinted at him, then broke into a laugh. "I suppose you did indeed," he said, patting the Warlock on the shoulder. He walked back to his desk, and ran a finger along the top of it. Three glasses appeared, along with a decanter full of deep amber Sapahn. "This is your poison of choice I believe," he said joyfully, pouring a glass for Murphy.

"It is," Murphy said cautiously, taking the drink from the man. "Is that something written in my mysterious file then?"

"It is," he chuckled. He handed a glass to Margo, then vanished the last, keeping the decanter held firmly in his hand. "You don't need to know a man's file to know his favourite drink though."

He gestured at a set of chairs by a small table in the corner of the room, guiding them to all sit.

"The best way to tell, is to know what he was drinking the night he came to life," he held up the Sapahn and wiggled it, looking directly at Murphy.

"You seem to know a lot about me, " Murphy responded, taking a sip from his cup. He stifled his reaction to the taste. It was one of the most fantastic things he'd ever put in his mouth, but he didn’t know if the old man should be privilege to that information. The man watched him sip, his unnerving eyes facing straight forward the whole time.

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"I've been keeping a close eye on you, Murphy," he said ominously, leaning in closer. "There's a lot of talk around the water cooler about your little gift."

Murphy’s heart pounded in his chest. He'd known for some time that he was the point of discussion among some mystery figures. Though finding an answer to any of his questions related to the fact, was like bleeding a stone. Callus was clearly involved in whatever the closed door conversation was, but the old Merlin refused to ever talk about it. Staying as stoic as possible, he probed for more. "You don't need to beat around the bush with me sir. I've been scaring people with my powers for as long as I can remember."

"Scared?" The man scoffed. "If we were scared of you, you wouldn't be here."

"Then why so many secrets?" Murphy asked, clearly annoyed. "If you're not saying anything to me, only seems like you're scared."

Margo covered her mouth, still remaining silent. She looked at Murphy with worry in her eyes, but it only firmed his resolve. "Who are you to be keeping secrets about me that I don't know?"

The man smirked, and glanced between the two of them. "You don't know who I am?" He asked, excitement creeping into his voice again.

"I don't think I care either, to be honest with you," Murphy scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"I had you blind a moment ago, and you think it's wise to be rude?" The man questioned, sitting back in his chair. "I thought you were just brave, but I'm starting to think you're stupid. I owe that old bastard a grimoire now."

He rubbed at his chin, seeming to trail off.

"You’re just another crazy old man," Murphy complained, standing to leave. "Thank you for this Margo, you've been a great help as always."

"Sit down boy," the man demanded, his voice suddenly filling the whole room.

Murphy gulped, getting a grip of his reality again. Slowly, he sat, refusing to meet the predatory gaze of the man in front of him.

"You’re impatient boy, it's a poor quality for a wizard," he complained, rubbing the bridge of his slender nose. "You already know who I am, you just haven't realised yet."

"I probably won't, if you keep being so cryptic," Murphy mumbled under his breath.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you boy. If you're to be my student, you'll address a king with the respect he deserves."

The demand snapped Murphy’s attention upwards. It clicked in his mind at that moment. The black hair, the shark-like eyes, and the label on the door. He was sitting in the study of the Mad King Surdin. His mouth went dry, and he searched his mind for something to say. The Mad King was a story book figure. He'd been hearing warning tales from bards about the adventures of Surdin his whole life. His temper was the core of it all, and the man wasn't to be trifled with.

"My mistake," he eventually said in a meek voice.

"You’re time to know will come soon enough, I can assure you of that," Surdin said, letting Murphy’s arrogance slide. "For right now though, you have more pressing issues."

Murphy nodded slowly. "You mean my power."

"Look at you following along," Surdin mocked. "That is why you're here after all."

"When will I know what's so important about me?" Murphy pushed.

"When the maiden deems it so," he replied cryptically, waving his hand to dismiss the topic. "That time won't come if you're no use to us. That's why I'm going to help you."

"So I'm supposed to have a greater purpose, or something like that?" The Warlock questioned.

"We all have a greater purpose Murphy, try and keep up. I have a vested interest in your success. You're lucky that I know how to be patient. Most Dragon-Harts would leave you in the dirt for a show like that."

Murphy wanted to ask about the Dragon-Harts, but decided the silence approach might be a better move. Instead of unleashing more questions, he just nodded.

Surdin raised an eyebrow, surprised by the Warlock's tact. "They want me to train you, so I have no choice. Lucky for you however, I actually want to see you grow."

He took a gulp from the decanter before continuing.

"You’re easy to read, it makes you predictable. You've been here for only a few minutes, and I already know your weaknesses. Your power isn't the only thing that's broken in you boy. You have no pride in yourself."

Murphy was taken back by that. He'd been accused of plenty of things, but not being prideful wasn't one of them. He considered himself to be quite proud. Just moments before he was ready to walk out of the room with his chin held high.

"I have plenty to be proud of," he defended.

"Nonsense," the Mad King scoffed. "You’re arrogant, not proud. The only time you showed me any worth was when I pissed you off. Once you're alone in the dark, you know that you're nothing."

Murphy flushed with rage again, but managed to bite back his words.

"You don't believe in your own self Murphy. You only believe in your power. Without your sight you think you're nothing. Your arrogance is what truly blinds you. You think you're so right you can't even see where your power lies."

"Are you trying to tell me to believe in myself?" Murphy scoffed, unable to hide his rage again.

"Exactly!" The Mad King shouted, jumping to his feet. "You think your power is in your sight, but if you just took a moment to believe it runs deeper, you could see what it is you can really do."

"If you expect a pep talk to bring back my gift, you're madder than they say."

"I expect a pep talk to make you think for a second of your wasted life," Surdin sighed. "Your power isn't something that can be taken, you blithering idiot. A power is something to be shaped. Yours has just been changed into a shape you don't recognise."

"This is all very mystical talk for something you are supposed to be helping me with," Murphy barked, standing as well.

"It's magic, kid. It's always going to be mystical. You won't find anything worthwhile on the issue in your master's books. You're playing with real magic now, not just natural philosophy. The only way to learn how to use a power is to teach yourself, or have someone that knows it show you. Since I'm the only one that knows it, I'm afraid you're stuck with my pep talks."

Murphy paused, and considered what the old king was saying. "How do you know how to use my power if it's so unique?"

Surdin smirked slowly, and placed his hand on Murphy’s shoulder. "Until you showed up, I was the only one that could see the truth of the world. I suppose my blood carries the gift dormant. Aren't you just a lucky little descendant?"

Murphy felt his rage slip away to make place for cold confusion.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I'm your grandfather Murphy," he said with twisted satisfaction. "Welcome to the family."