“I presume it went well,” said Herbert in broken Daqua.

Ralgdo, stupefied at the mage’s presence, stood still like a newborn fox.

Herbert stepped towards the igloo, but Ralgdo stood in the entrance. “You’re in my way.”

Ralgdo shuffled aside and Herbert entered; his steps froze the earth on which he walked.

The mage approached the pair lying on the ground. “So, this is why you’re able to pass down magic from one generation to the next. You are the beasts.” He touched Kilgarda’s back. A thick layer of ice covered her. He pushed her aside, reached into his robe, uncorked a vial, raised Nathan’s head, and poured its contents into Nathan’s mouth.

When the shock washed off Ralgdo, he couldn’t help but to boil. Enraged, his fist balled up, his forehead turned red, and his veins snaked down his temples. He did not know why but seeing Herbert here felt like a betrayal of his trust in Nathan. He knew not to blame the boy, after all he was the one to reproach Kilgarda on this, however, it still hurt.

Why so? He did not know. Perhaps because he thought Nathan was abandoned by his father. Perhaps he thought that the boy had become his son, the son of the village.

Ralgdo grabbed a knife wrapped on his waist, but something prevented him from pulling it out of its scabbard. The mage’s presence was too great, it was greater than life itself. Mages were untouchable and he doubted that even the Seers of the large fishing cities couldn’t even scratch one. And if that was the case, who was he to kill one?

Herbert dipped his fingers in Kilgarda’s blood before using it to draw lines on the now-frozen floor.

But Ralgdo couldn’t let this go on. He closed his eyes and pulled the blade out of its scabbard. He waited, seeing if anything would pierce his body or maim him before he moved, but nothing happened. Gaining confidence, he opened his eyes and locked them on the mage. He was the village’s guardian. If not him, who else would do this?

Nathan was lying atop the lines painted in Kilgarda’s blood while the mage had his hand pressed atop Nathan’s chest.

It was now or never. Ralgdo squeezed the knife in his hand, letting its leather handle eat into his palm. Launching himself towards the mage, he plunged his blade into the mage’s side. He pulled out his blade and stabbed. Stabbed. Stabbed. Stabbed. Stabbed, over and over again. After a dozen hits, he looked down, but his hands weren’t red, and the cloak hadn’t been pierced.

The heat emitted from the mage dissipated and something cold pushed Ralgdo back. He tumbled onto the ice-covered floor. A frosty wave spread through him, draining his strength. He looked down, an ice spear was lodged in his stomach.

Ralgdo couldn’t even hold on to his knife. Ice spread across his body. It crawled down his legs and up his stomach. As it was about to reach his mouth, he could only curse his killer before the ice mummified him.

#

Herbert pushed aside the corpse and peered down to his flank. He pulled aside his cloak and pulled up his shirt. His skin was red-hot and when he pressed his hand on the area, his ribs moved, and he couldn’t help but groan. As he took in a breath, a wheeze came from within his chest.

#

Nathan woke up in a daze. Stars blurred in and out of existence and the moon phased in and out of sight. Something moved up his stomach, then throat. He rolled over onto his stomach and vomited something dark.

Whipping his mouth with a handful of snow, he rolled over onto his back, letting his arms flop to his sides. The stars had fixed themselves in the sky, and the moon no longer moved about.

“How do you feel?” He heard his father’s voice.

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Nathan quickly turned over. There, he saw his father sitting on a boulder cleared of snow.

“Good or bad?” asked Herbert with a wheeze.

Something was off in his father’s expression. Not only did his question seem to come from worry, but his face was also blue, and his breaths laboured. He clutched at his ribs and a whistle accompanied his breaths.

“What’s going on? What happened?” asked Nathan worriedly. He struggled up and walked to his father.

Herbert looked up to the rolling clouds. A storm was coming. “Nathan de la Cordella, follow the trees with two marks. It’ll lead you to a village where you’ll be able to take a sled or follow the trees with one mark to Bregva —” Herbert coughed and keeled over. He managed to sit back up, but his hands trembled clutching his side. Nathan’s face paled. “There, head to the port, find the mages, show them my emblem, and tell them of your intention to head to Vilnus.” Herbert unpinned the sun badge which rested on his chest, pricked it in his skin, letting blood accumulate on its front-facing side, and then threw it to Nathan.

Catching it, Nathan snapped out of his trance. “What happened?” He asked, his face worry ridden.

Herbert didn’t respond to his son and continued. “At Vilnus, show them the emblem once again and ask for directions to the Northern Tower. There, say that you’re a beginner mage with an emblem. The rest will be taken care of by them.”

“Why can’t you come? What happened? Also, I can’t leave Mother. And wasn’t I on my way to Kilgarda’s village? Why are we here?”

Herbert took a deep breath. His face was now as red as a pool of blood.

“Quiva is dead, Kilgarda is dead, sickness took one and you the other.”

“What?” He couldn’t understand what Herbert had muttered.

“They’re all dead. The pearls are all gone and the crystals of which you do not know of, are being harvested to no end. They’re all headed to Vilnus, they’re all in the hands of mages,” as he continued to speak his face grew redder and redder. “This island … this snow … these people … they’re all ours, yours—” Herbert’s coughing fit resumed, and blood sprinkled the snow red. “Kilgarda gave her life to grant you magic. The blood which soaks you is hers.

As your father, to see you become one of us is my greatest joy. It’s … unfortunate that I won’t be able to speak to you as a mage but remember…” The words he wanted to say escaped him. He just knew what his final words needed to be, “You need to revive the name of Cordella.” Herbert took a few more laboured breaths and spoke whatever passed his mind. “I’d give you this coat, but I doubt you’d accept it, and it would cause you trouble on your journey. Do what you must. All belongs to mages. Do as you wish. But—” Herbert coughed out lumps of blood before falling over face first in the snow.

“Dad … Dad!” Nathan ran to Herbert’s side. It was all too sudden. How could any of this happen? Hadn’t he been in his mother’s embrace just a few days ago, wasn’t he out with his father hunting beasts a few days ago? Didn’t he visit Kilgarda a couple weeks ago?

It was all too sudden.

He grabbed his father’s shoulders and strained his muscles to roll him over. His arms and legs were limp, and his eyes had an aimless stare to them.

“Dad!” Nathan shook Herbert, but he didn’t move. Nathan placed his ear above his father’s bloodied chest, but he didn’t hear any thuds.

Nathan got up and stepped back. Had his father really died? Just like that… Without him knowing anything about how he died. No!

How could he believe any of this?

Nothing can hurt dad in this wasteland. He’s too strong. And Mother can’t die just like that, neither can Kilgarda.

Nathan gazed down to the pin in his hand. Although he had seen it every day of his life, he’d never touched it. It was a smooth pin, probably made of a circular bright yellow crystal (now stained red) which represented the sun with three triangular orange crystals representing sunbeams.

He couldn’t look at it anymore. His father would never let go of this emblem; he always had it on him. I’m sure dad will be fine when I give it back.

Nathan pinned the emblem back onto his father’s cloak and walked away after wiping his tears. But before he even took two steps, something light hit his back. He pivoted around, “Father.” But his father was still lying in the snow. Nathan quickly looked aside; he couldn’t bear the sight. It made him want to vomit and sleep. But there he spotted the emblem next to his boot. How? He wondered before picking it up and placing it back on his father. Walking away, he kept his eyes on it and just as he took his second step it flew towards him. He caught it and wiped it clean of snow.

Its three bright golden beams of light were now sparkling clean once again. All it took was a bit of snow. Was blood so easily wiped away?

Deciding to take it as a gift from his father for ascending to magehood, Nathan pocketed the emblem and walked away. He searched for any ice sheets in hopes it might lead him home, however, he couldn’t find any trace of ice, life, or magic, not even a footprint. It was as if he had been dropped here from above. All he could see were trees, no doubt those with two strikes. As a last-ditch effort, he decided to head in the opposite direction marked by the trees in hopes of finding his way home.