Damien sighed as he landed in the empty yard outside The Tower. Two feet of fresh snow forced him to conjure a platform under his feet or sink to his knees. Bright blue skies held a blinding sun that reflected off the white yard causing him to squint. Despite the light, the sun did nothing to relieve the bitter cold.

Not that the chill bothered Damien. He’d surrounded himself with a pocket of warm air and little wisps of steam rose from his shield. To look at the clear sky today you’d never know two days ago it had been snowing three inches an hour. Damien found he missed the southern weather. He didn’t miss the bandits, poison, assassins, black knight, or corrupt barons. But the warm sunshine had been nice.

He strode toward The Tower doors, extending the platform ahead of him. One of the guards on the wall waved, looking miserable huddled beside an inadequate brazier. Damien returned the gesture. He’d gotten to know most of the guards during his time studying and they generally recognized him when he visited.

Damien had managed four days of rest before he couldn’t stand it anymore. The one small mercy of the past few days: Karrie hardly bothered him at all. She didn’t seem angry or anything, just distant. Maybe she’d accepted that he had no intention of marrying her. He hoped so. It would be a relief to go back to just being friends.

When he’d gone to the archmage looking for something to do she’d sent him to The Tower with orders to learn all he could about Connor Blackman. Damien had never been much for research. He preferred action. Still, he’d gotten comfortable in the library during his studies and a handful of days amid the stacks would make for a nice change of pace after all the running around and fighting. And it would be nice to see Eli, Amanda, and Ann again.

Damien used soul force to open the massive, black front doors and walked into the black and silver entry hall. He pulled the doors closed and turned toward the headmaster’s office. The tiny old man was expecting him. The archmage had sent a message detailing Damien’s mission and pending arrival so there should be no problem on that account.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

A wave of nostalgia washed over him as he walked toward the office. Had it only been three and a half years since he first visited the now-familiar hall, a nervous kid with no idea what lay before him? The bench where he’d first seen Eli sat empty this morning. That boded well for him getting right in to see the headmaster.

Damien knocked and the office door swung open. The dry smell of parchment and ink rolled over him. The little man stood in front of his desk, a bright smile on his bewhiskered face.

Damien had barely taken a step inside the room when the headmaster rushed over and grasped his hand, pumping enthusiastically. “Good to see you again, my boy. Sit down, sit down. Lidia told me all about your adventures down south. Remarkable, absolutely remarkable.”

The headmaster bustled around behind his desk and sat. His head stuck up well above the surface of the desk. Did he sit on a stack of books or use a special chair? Damien eased into one of the guest chairs. Even after three plus years it took all his willpower to sit in the presence of a master. He’d learned, however, that the headmaster wouldn’t relax until Damien took a chair so he did it as much for the older man as his own comfort.

“To think Connor Blackman would have resurrected the old Cult of the Horned One. That boy always did have an unhealthy fascination with the black arts. When he escaped after we discovered him experimenting with demonic artifacts I feared he’d come back to haunt us. But I never imagined something like this.”

Damien forced himself to interrupt the flustered master. “Sir, did you assemble the list of Connor’s yearmates?”

The headmaster shook himself, a little shudder running through his beard. “Of course, it’s here somewhere.” He rummaged around through myriad papers on his cluttered desk. Eventually he pulled out a crumpled sheet of parchment. “Here we go. Small class that year, only Connor and two others, Kat Gentul and David Weks. Both were good students and haven’t given us a moment’s grief. You’ll find their current assignments there as well.”

Damien accepted the parchment. “Thank you, sir. Did your researchers have any luck at the goblin lair?”

The headmaster harrumphed. “No. All their tests came back inconclusive. The only thing they learned for sure was that someone summoned the demon within the past ten years with primarily nonhuman sacrifices.”

“Nonhuman?”

“Mainly goblin and animal. Probably why the tribe was so small. Anything else I can do to help you?”

“If it’s okay and they’re agreeable, I’d like to borrow Ann and Eli to help with my research. I don’t know how much reading I’ll have to do, but two extra sets of eyes would speed the process along.”

“By all means, if they can help, use them.”