When my eyes fluttered open, Alden was back at his desk, reading through a stack of papers. Someone removed the wooden board on my lap. My right hand was wrapped in fresh bandages. My blood on the sofa was wiped away to a faint reddish-brown stain. I flexed my bandaged hand, the cut across my palm throbbing in pain.

"What happened?"

Alden perked up in his seat and blinked at me.

"Only ten minutes. Impressive will. Yes, you'll do."

I reached for my cane, twisting the short sword in the scabbard.

"What did you do to me?!"

"Nothing, elf. Exhaustion is a common side effect of renaming. I've seen men blackout for hours, even a full day. Congratulations, you’re a mage."

I frowned. I didn’t feel like a mage.

"What's renaming?"

Alden smirked.

“The root of all magic.”

It must have something to do with High Elvish.

“Can you tell me more?”

"I think not. I’ve played the tutor long enough. Now, please leave."

He turned back to the sheets on his desk.

I growled as I got to my feet. The trifecta of exhaustion, hunger and blood loss made me second-guess my decision. I leaned on my cane as I blinked the spinning room steady. I hadn't eaten all day. If the orange light coming through the window was any sign, the evening was approaching.

As I turned to leave, a question flashed in my mind.

"Why white?"

'What?"

Annoyance edged Alden's regal voice.

"Why white cushions? Why not red or some kind of blanket to cover the sofa and avoid the mess?"

Alden cocked his head like a dog, a confused expression on his face.

"Then what would the servants do?"

I opened my mouth and then closed it, shaking my head as I left the room without another word.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

I wandered through the streets of the Upper District, visiting the ruins of my home. The faint smell of burning wood lingered in the air. Three of the four walls had collapsed in on itself, scattering scorched bricks among the ashen remains. Somewhere in these ruins was the table we used to gather around to eat, but now…

My home was a corpse, and the pickings were slim.

Alden had said the city guards found four dead bodies and counting. Did someone make it out alive? I could check. I was a mage now, connected to the land in front of me and the spirits beneath it.

"Cynthia, Cindra, Mrs. Dulldrey, Mr. Reeves, Gren. Are you there? Can you hear me?"

The wind answered me, a cold gust that cut through my damp clothes and sent a shiver up my spine. It kicked up the ash and covered me in a fine layer of grey dust.

What did I expect?

I let my feet carry me, the idle wandering of a spirit that had not found a home in the earth. That's what I was, the walking dead. In search of... In search of what? I walked past Elmer's shop. It was closed. I would have to talk to the tiny man tomorrow and wring out everything he knew.

A young boy ran past me, his laughter contrasting with the numb feeling in my flesh. He wrapped his arms around the legs of his waiting mother. They disappeared hand in hand around the corner.

I walked until the sun was setting over the horizon. I leaned forward against the railing of a bridge that split the Lower and Upper Districts. I lost myself in the ripples the wind made in the canal below. This bridge was familiar. It was the one that Sin had carried me across to begin my new life.

What is ruthlessness?

I shook the question out of my head.

My old life was on my right; my new life was on the left, and both were in ruins.

What do I want, outside of something to eat, a change of clothes, and a place to sleep? Some money would be nice. I had a debt to pay, and I was done being an orphan. What else?

I wanted to find Sin.

I would find her and... and do what?

KILL HER!

My stomach tied itself into knots, warring emotions fighting within me. It was only right; she killed Cynthia and the others, but... wasn't she doing what I asked?

I had asked Sin for the third lesson—begged her for years against her wishes. She was right; I wasn't ready.

I wiped my tears on my sleeve. Weapons don't cry.

Is that still what I wanted to be?

What else was there? If I left this path now, the deaths of Cynthia and everyone else would be for nothing.

What is ruthlessness?

I raised my right hand; the gold ring on my finger was cool to the touch. Whatever love I had in me had burned away in the fire. I pulled off the ring, rolling it between my thumb and index finger.

“What is ruthlessness?”

I threw the ring into the canal. It disappeared into the dark waters.

“Killing what you love."

I waited for the pain— the heartache of that foolish boy who ran into a burning building to save the people he loved.

Nothing.

I was numb.

I was free.

I was… a weapon.

I smiled, tilting my head back to howl at the fading light.