“Now tell me you idiot,” Asked the old man, “What do you think that spirit will do?”

Lane stood there, watching that hunched, wrinkled, and limping old man who spoke of things none of his tutors did and wielded power beyond anything he had seen his father or the Lord use and realized he believed him.

Something in the way the old man spoke made Lane listen, and when he did, the things the old man said were actually making sense. Still, Lane refused to believe the situation was as bad as described.

“It, it cannot be that bad right? I mean, it can’t cross anymore so there should be nothing it can do about it.” Said Lane.

“It can’t cross, that’s true for what it’s worth,” Replied the old man, “But that does not mean the spirit is powerless, oh no. If the records are true, then it means the spirit is stronger than the norm, it should be following you around, latching on your presence like a thick on a dog. The problem,” followed the old man, “Is that as long as it stays there, the smaller spirits will only go away.”

“Then, then what about my reveal?” Asked Lane.

But the old man only shook his head. “Not anymore boy, with that around, you won’t have a reveal anytime soon.”

“This, this is nonsense! There must be a way. You! What are those ingredients you prepared for? Can you help men? Please!”

“I can help, my potion will help,” said the old man, “Help the spirit find you easier so that you can lead it away the reveal day and it does not splash on random people.”

“What?” Asked Lane, “Find me easier? You want it to find me easier?”

“Do you have a better plan? The way I see it you either take the fall for what you have done or drag everyone around down with you.”

“Can’t we just block it?”

“We could,” said the old man shrugging, “But don’t you think that anything able to block that thing will let a weaker spirit find you?”

“Then confuse it,” said Lane, “I’ll lead it away with your potion, block it with another, and come back for the reveal! That way it will stay away!”

“Hmm,” grunted the old man, “I haven’t actually heard of that one before. Maggie!” He said. And the raven took flight and started tumbling the books all over the store.

“What, what is it doing?” asked Lane.

“Shush you idiot, don’t distract her.” And they watched Maggie fly around the room wreaking more havoc that Lane had done in instants. Finally, she stopped flying and stood atop a small black book flapping her wings and cawing at Lane.

“Here we go,” said the old man, “Go, you brat, fetch me that book!”

This time Lane did not retort and just reached for the book. As if to defy his expectations, Maggie just jumped away and flew to perch herself onto the old man’s shoulder. When Lane lifted the book, he realized it was heavier that what its’ size suggested.

To the touch, the book felt soft and cold, its’ cover with a flawless smoothness that reminded him of polished metal. However, unlike the rigid metal, the book felt as flexible as leather.

In the center of the cover was a painting of a small white circle he could not see until Maggie moved away. The rest of the cover was completely black. He walked to the old man who snatched the book as soon as Lane got in range.

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“Hmm, I had not seen one of these in a while,” said the old man as he pressed a bony hand over the cover, “Please show us Maggie.” And he flipped the book open, lifting it until it reached Maggie’s height.

Lane, who by then was scratching his head and slipping backward again, stopped silly when Maggie spread her wings and the store livened up with a sudden gust. Papers flew, stuffed animals trembled, and the pages in the book flipped by themselves.

Then, as sudden as it started, the wind stopped, leaving the book in the old man’s hand open. “Thank you, Maggie,” He said lowering the book only to start reading in silence. Lane counted him flip three pages before stopping and looking back at him.

“Listen, boy,” said the old man, “I’ll have your pelt ready in a week.” And he waved with his hand behind him sending Maggie flying to a shelf.

“I…” Began Lane but the old man shook his head, and showed him a palm stopping him.

“In a week,” He continued, “You will come back with a choice.” And received a leather back from Maggie that had returned to his shoulder without Lane realizing it. He put the book in the bag and passed it to Lane. “You will read and decide but read it alone. No one else must see this,”

“But, the reveal,” Said Lane, “what can…”

And the old man clasped his shoulder “Until then, read. Then choose.” Said the old man before letting go.

Maggie spread her wings and flapped another gust and when Lane reacted, he was already outside of the store. The door closed and his stuff tossed in a mess on the floor. In his hands, he felt the weight of the leather bag.

Inside the store, the old man straightened himself, his skin smoothened, and his staff turned into a long sword. On his shoulder, Maggie turned into smoke before wrapping around his back in a black cloak.

“Rophrenor,” He said his voice deep, clear, and calm, “Will you really stoop as low as harming children?”

From the floor, a lump of dust rose, stacking into a human shape to reveal a young man wearing chest plate stained in blue. He smiled.

“Believe it or not, I didn’t do it,” Rophrenor said, “The kid went and cursed himself, I just helped him find you out of pity.”

“Hmph” The old man scoffed but his face remained deadpan, “In the reveal? In this reveal? What a good person you are. Then it wouldn’t matter if I just let him fall. After all, you will kill him anyway.”

“I could,” said Rophrenor, “I would. And yet, old man, the council runs tired of this game. Tell me, where is she?”

“Not here, and that’s all that matters,” Said the old man, “There is nothing you care about in this place.”

“Ah,” Answered Rophrenor, “But that’s the thing, isn’t it? There is someone you, care about in this place.”

The light in the room grew dimmer, the air colder, yet the shadows casted by the old man seemed to turn deeper, and larger.

“If I were you,” He said, “I would pick very carefully my next words.”

But in the next moment, Rophrenor’s shape shrunk, leaving no trace but a voice trailing from over and nowhere.

“Debts may be forgotten, Master.” Echoed the voice, “We may not find the lady, but time comes due, and you cannot stop us. If you won’t point her, we will just have to smoke the place.”

Outside, the sun hid behind the mountains painting the town with orange hues. Children ran laughing with the careless happiness of someone who felt safe and had nothing to worry about but the next laugh. Here and there, groups of teens with colorful strands decorating their hair talked animatedly.

Lane saw nothing as he strode the streets in silence. The bag over his shoulder feeling heavier with each step. Soon, the rustling streets made way for wider roads framed with houses of brick and stone rather than wood.

Finally, Lane saw a wall of stone with an open steel gate. He passed through the gate without hassle, only stopping for a moment to nod at the guards by its sides. Behind the gate, a huge garden stretched in an expanse where stone roads snaked sinuously over trimmed grass.

Colorful flowers, an occasional sculpture, and well-cared threes lead to the center of the garden, where the castle, heart of the kingdom’s edge, stood proudly overseeing its’ domain. In the morning, Lane left that same castle looking forward to the winter’s reveal. Now, returning in the dimming day filled with unexpected events, Lane bit his lips and clenched his fists. Read. Echoed the voice of the old man in his head. And choose.