"Stop, Kolof," he ordered calmly in a tone that would make anyone break out in a cold sweat. In any case, Kolof understood the danger and promptly released his grip, before loosely retreating back to his group.

"Miron and his friend are tonight's special guests. They are entitled to all the good things here that are always offered to the chosen ones, and to be left in peace to enjoy them as they wish."

And even though Sirkol terrified his henchmen, for he had just spoken with certainty of the approaching end of Kolof's much-hated enemies, the whole group offered a snide and victorious sneer to Miron, who once again responded to this disguised provocation with an innocence as feigned as it was unpleasant.

"Did you hear him 'Kolof'? Or rather little submissive slave of Sirkol. You've already taken your filthy hand off me, which is a good thing. Anyway, you don't have the power to disobey, don't you? This is your place. And we all know that's not going to change, not now and not in the future. Now, that you're no longer useful, as usual, you and your stinking minions had better get out, so Kei and I can finish our party in peace. Get out of here!"

At these words, the obnoxious laughter of the persecutors suddenly stopped. Kolof clenched his fists fiercely, his face red with anger, and no longer holding back, returned to Miron and grabbed him by the neck again. Sirkol shrugged slightly.

"Are you so incapable of changing your ways a little, Kolof? Even for such a trivial thing you are an incompetent."

"you…!"

"I told you to leave them alone, Kolof. I will not repeat myself."

"But Master, he insulted me, should I let that go?" the latter exclaimed, shaking with fear, anger and frustration.

"Yes, that's what I'm saying. "

And the look that accompanied these too calm words made everyone in the room tremble.

And too cowardly as usual, Kolof immediately withdrew his hand from his worst enemy, but not without first forgetting to push him away with a violence that made him topple on his chair. After a last look full of hatred, the group of teenagers timidly walked away into the darkness. Sirkol stared at Miron and slowly approached.

"Forgive them, Miron. They are a bit impatient. But you must understand that this is natural under such exceptional circumstances."

"Of course, I am perfectly aware of that fact, just as one can only forgive those weak and futile beings who have neither the power nor the will to leave their lackey position and have to suffer for it forever. And I'm not just talking about Kolof."

The heartless wizard shrugged, indifferent.

"That's just an insignificant detail."

The director approached, casting a cold glance at the two boys' sumptuous meal. Then, with a sardonic smile, he exclaimed.

"Oh, but you don't have any alcohol, boys!"

"We're underage," Kei stupidly replied with infuriating quickness.

The wizard continued, as if the latter had said nothing.

"We mustn't forget this crucial accompaniment, to go with all these dishes so refined that one only tastes once in his life, this life so limited. It's unforgivable especially when you know how important this evening is, don't you think?"

"But they say their taste is disgusting." Intervened again the blond boy unconscious of his nonsense, and unable as always to judge the atmosphere.

Miron turned to his fool buddy and gave him an eloquent look so that he understood the message, and the interested party received it, because he immediately corrected himself.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"But upon further consideration and as you so aptly pointed out, even twice, tonight is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, so... please pour us a drink."

Miron turned to his persecutor.

"What my friend, though I sometimes wonder, is trying to say so clumsily is that a little alcohol might not harm us. In any case, its action will be nothing compared to what will happen soon enough."

"I recognize you so well there, young prodigy."

Eyes still fixed on the young orphan, Sirkol glowed and reached out to a corner of the room. At once, a swirl of black and dusty clouds appeared, from which emerged an abominable and nauseating figure. A sort of bald being whose dry and whitish skin contrasted terribly with his eyes, his mouth, and his suit as black as the night that his creator loved so much.

Constantly surrounded by this moving envelope of suffocating clouds, he went to kneel before Sirkol. The latter spoke to him in an unknown language that Miron, strangely to his amazement, understood perfectly.

"Pour some wine on those miserable little parasites. The worst there is."

"Yes, master."

"I wonder what he said to that horror," Kei asked, grunting in horror.

Miron did not respond to his friend, nor did he even make the slightest gesture that might have made the dark mage or anyone else understand his understanding of the language and the discussion that had just taken place. He waited and watched, feeling horribly helpless. The devout servant promptly did so and opened his rib cage with a terribly dry sound, revealing several bottles of different kinds, shapes and colors - though all dark, arranged in perfect order. Kei almost fainted from the macabre sight and the foul smell that was spreading and choking the room more and more.

But thanks to his disgusting magic, the servant astonished them even more by inserting his hand further inside his large and foul trunk, to take out an exceptional bottle of a suspicious purplish blue, engraved with signs of obvious meaning.

Then, reaching in, he uncorked the bottle and poured it into the glasses of the two competitors, delicately chiseled gold masterpieces. The liquid had a dark color ranging from red to indigo.

After serving the two boys, the servant gave a sardonic smile to Miron, then walked away. The latter, looking at the sadly glowing liquid, took his cup and drank, never taking his eyes off Sirkol. He slowly swallowed the terrible liquid, knowing that he would never forget the taste.

After seeing his friend drink the disgusting beverage without batting an eyelid, Kei gathered his courage and in turn brought his cup to his lips.

"If Miron thinks we should drink it, then I will drink it. I will swallow this horror without fear to the last drop!"

Miron noticed his gesture and turned back to his comrade with an imperious expression that forced this one to immediately put his glass down without dipping his lips in it.

"Uh, given the situation, I think I'll err on the side of caution and pass."

And he curled up in his seat and didn't move, obviously trying to make himself forget.

The two sides resumed their confrontation.

"Well Miron, what can you tell me about the taste of your first drink?"

Which, by the way, should be your last. But the director put no words to this second, yet distinct, part.

"Nothing exceptional. I smell the taste of blood, obviously stored for a long time in a damp, slimy place, and probably consciously cursed by you."

"I'm glad to see you're still so perceptive. I was not wrong in choosing you for tonight's event, and to elevate your motivation to the highest level, I did not forget to bring with you your most loyal lackey, your own Kolof," he added, pointing at Kei with a visibly contemptuous finger, "so that you will be perfect in fulfilling your assigned role and the show will succeed beyond all others. So, in conclusion, are you satisfied with your meal, did you find it good?"

"Yes, good to die for."

Sirkol reached out and stroked Miron's hair.

"What ingenuity in that rigid box. I hope you don't disappoint us at the moment of truth."

Miron sketched a falsely pleasant smile.

"Don't worry about anything, dear master, I won't disappoint you. But even without all that, I would at least have done it as a prize for this wonderful dinner my friend Kei and I have never had before, and especially not forgetting the various treatments we have undergone since the beginning, as well as for all the first times I live today. And you, more than anyone, know that everything has a price, don't you?"

They faced each other mercilessly in an exchange of glances. A chill wind rose and blew forcefully into the room. Sirkol narrowed his eyes, which became almost glassy as he looked at the child prodigy. His blue cloak with white fur floated in the air, a powerful, evil aura enveloping him. Despite some legitimate fears, Miron did not lower his eyes, on the contrary, he accentuated his sovereign vision, which in spite of himself aroused the admiration of his enemy. After an almost indefinite period of time of nail biting on the part of Kei and loss of sweat from all his pores, the head of Athok finally calmed down.

"Yes, I know that. Then I'll see you later, Miron. In the meantime, I hope you have a good time."

The dark wizard smiled strangely at them, then walked away, his cadaverous servant on his heels, slowly disappearing into the sea of foul and sinister clouds.

Miron and Kei followed their movements until they disappeared completely behind a huge magical portal carrying the foul mist.