So much of our history has been lost or deliberately obfuscated. It saddens and pains me to consider how much we will never rediscover. Today, you brand an innocent man because he was willing to ask questions and sought to spread answers. It is you, High Priest, who is a guilty man. I seek only to learn and to teach. So brand me and let me begin my exile so that I might continue my travels. - Cailen Thaloris The Heretical Bard of Aurelis.

Darian drifted in a sea of nothingness. He had been growing increasingly used to the lack of sensation. When he'd first stepped into the circle, it had been a living nightmare; now, he would call it relaxing if not for the headaches that accompanied every session. Thankfully, even those were becoming less of a problem.

Pain so extreme it felt like Darian's skull was being ripped apart had been replaced by a mild discomfort. Lys had limited him to four sessions daily despite Darian believing he could handle a fifth and maybe even a sixth.

In the last three months, Darian had plateaued in his training. Lys encouraged him to continue pushing himself, saying he was young and that his peak would reach new heights as he grew physically and magically. His reading improvements had slowed down as well. He still read daily, but he was slow and awkward. That and the math Lys had been forcing upon him were Darian's slowest areas of development. Thankfully, it hadn't taken him long to become a much better cook than Lys. Granted, the bar was so low that he almost tripped over it.

A chime in the nothingness, changeable, variable… uncertain.

Darian reached for the note of probability. It was an action he'd quietly added to the exercise. Since he'd heard his first note, he'd felt compelled to reach out and grasp it. To reach out and take magic in one of its purist forms into his control. His first attempt had been ridiculous, resulting in him spasming on the floor and messing up the magical circle he sat in.

He couldn't help but mentally wince at the memory. Moving without being able to feel any sensory input is hard.

This time, he reached for it differently. Throughout his training, he'd begun to notice a new part of himself that had grown stronger as time passed. It was like a mental manifestation of his will. His control of his will was imprecise. It reminded him of how babies struggled to control their limbs, sometimes tangling themselves up. Still, when the note rang out, he managed to lerch his will towards it. It was a desperate attempt to connect with the note, even if only to brush against it.

Come on! He growled mentally. He couldn't feel his facial muscles, but they had to be locked into a snarl as he fought to move the infantile tendril of will. Darian felt like he was hammering against a wall. Pain lanced through him. It was a strange sensation. It swept through his body, only for the circle to erase it, only for another wave to crash down upon him. It was a repeating cycle, all happening within a single point in time. Darian continued to hammer against the wall.

And under his barrage, the wall gave.

He burst through the obstruction, his will alight with purpose, and seized the note. It beat in rhythm with Darian. Sounding with something primordial within his very being, a place he hadn't even known existed.

It lasted for a moment—less than a heartbeat. The note faded into the empty nothingness that had engulfed his senses, but Darian had done it—he had done it!

Unable to control his excitement, he lept from the circle or attempted to. Without the input of his senses, it was more of a spasmatic flop that left him dragging his face across the house's floor.

Unfortunately, the flood of sensations returning only highlighted the feeling of his face sliding across the floor. It was an embarrassing and disorienting reminder of an already-learned lesson. "Why is it always the floor?" he groaned as the expected headache blossomed between his eyes.

"What was that about," growled a surly voice above him.

Darian looked up at Lys, who glowered down at him.

"That chalk isn't exactly easy to source, lad. I've told you, if you need to leave the circle, do it slowly and deliberately."

Darian beamed back at the grumpy face of his mentor, "I… did it." It was only then Darian realized just how hard he was breathing. He was exhausted. He felt drained, as if he'd just run miles.

"What did you do," Lys asked, concern knitting his eyebrows.

"I finally caught one.

Lys's eyebrows almost met as he eyed Darian in confusion. His eyes widened in surprise and concern as he looked Darian over. "Well... shit."

Darian's stomach dropped, "What did I do?" Had he messed up and hurt himself? He thought of the pain that had washed through him despite the circle doing its best to suppress the sensation. Did I push too far?

He felt normal. No, Darian felt better than normal; it was like a weight pressing down on him had been removed.

Lys just sighed before stepping away and rubbing his face with his hand. "We'll call it there for today."

"What," demanded Darian. "I can go one more, honestly. Lys, I feel fine. Better than fine, really. I feel great."

Lys began to pace; his steps were rapid, and his turns, sharp.

Darian swallowed his welling trepidation, "Honestly, Lys, I'm fine."

Lys stopped pacing and let out a loud sigh. When he turned, Darian was surprised to see concern deepening the lines on his face. "Let's talk while you make supper," he said.

Darian nodded as dread filled him.

Lys let Darian start, allowing him to fall into the familiar routine of prepping large steaks with a generous serving of sweet potatoes and carrots. The potatoes would take the longest to cook, and Lys only started talking when they were set inside the stove to bake.

"You've broken the spelllock I placed on you," Lys said, breaking the tense silence between them.

Lys had explained that the purpose of the spelllock had been to buy him more time, "What does that mean," asked Darian.

"It means we are out of time. There isn't any exact way to measure how developed a new mage is; it's a lot of guesswork based on their capabilities."

"And breaking the spelllock wasn't supposed to happen this soon?"

"You were never meant to break it. There was a fail-safe in that spell. It would have alerted me if you were getting close." Lys let out a sigh of exasperation before continuing, "You blew through it so fast the spell didn't have the time to signal me."

"Uhh…" It was all Darian could say as his mind struggled to process what Lys had just said.

Lys eyed Darian; Darian could see a tired smile playing on his lips. "We'll have to make a short trip to see an old… acquaintance."

"Acquaintance?"

Lys nodded gravely, "He's an extremely dangerous and realms renowned thief."

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Darian scrunched his eyebrows, "Realms renowned?"

"He's a primordial and has a reputation in just about every realm of the Primordial Plains, and when I say dangerous, I mean he is dangerous."

"Why the both of us?" Darian didn't know much about primordials. He only knew that during the yearly Surge, they could sometimes come to their world through portals that would appear at random. He'd heard stories from sailors and some of the men who worked the lumber mill, stories about monsters appearing from the air. Destroying forts, towns, and, in some cases, entire cities. Other times, it might be a single monster stuck on the material side that would go mad and become a menace to the countryside.

"Because he'll know why I'm seeking to trade with him, and he'll refuse if you aren't there for him to meet." Lys's turquoise eyes locked onto Darian's own green eyes. "I will repeat this warning before we go, but listen to it now: never trust a primordial."

Darian nodded, keeping his eyes locked with Lys's before hesitantly asking, "What even is a primordial?"

Lys opened his mouth slightly but paused before speaking. He chuckled, then burst into laughter: "I forget how little you know." He wiped at his eye: "I'm ridiculous; here I am, warning you about something you don't know the singlest thing about. I'm sorry, lad, I sometimes forget what is considered common knowledge."

Darian cracked a smile, some of his stress bleeding away. It's good to see him laugh. It was rare to see anything but Lys's stoney expressions, which ranged from granite to marble. His regular expressions had that same chiseled stone cast, but his current laugh was bright and full of life.

"A little lesson, then, while you finish cooking our meal." Lys cleared his throat. "The primordial plain is a world of pure magic, separated from our own. You see, there are multiple plains of existence: the realm of souls, the material, and the primordial, to name a few. All these realms are layered on each other and divided by something the Jonras call the veil."

"There is another world on top of ours," asked Darian.

Lys nodded, "It's a crude explanation, but the best I have. Every location on the material is connected to somewhere in the primordial. However, with the way our two realities are layered, you could have, for example, your bedroom connected to the plain of fire, while my bedroom might lead to the plain of chaos. What is close in the material might be separated by near infinite distances in the primordial, and that's not even getting into how the veil and how you pierce it influence your exit."

"I don't think I understood any of that."

Lys chuckled, "I don't understand it either," shrugged Lys, "But let's move on to something more important, at least for our purposes. The primordial is made up of twelve realms, with each representing one of the twelve basic notes. Where the prime realms overlap, you get the convergence realms. Entire kingdoms, larger and more populous than every human kingdom joined together, inhabit them. Almost every being in the convergence realms is intelligent. From the most sapient, capable of thought and reason from birth, down to those that act more instinctually. Each is at, near, or even above human levels of intellect."

Darian felt his eyes go wide with every word Lys said. The idea that another world was even more magical than their own lit his mind with delight. "We're going to go there," he asked tentatively.

Lys nodded, "We are, but only for a few hours at most."

Darian couldn't suppress the wide grin that settled on his face.

"Darian, the very air is poisonous to us. Reality in the primordial is not conducive to human existence. I've only ever been to one of their cities and was lucky to get out alive. We go, conduct our business, and leave."

Darian fell silent, simply letting his hands work as he puzzled over what Lys had said. If the primordial was truly dangerous enough that Lys was wary of it, what chance did he stand? Power. It all came back to power. Over the months, Darian had been considering what to tell Lys to convince him to train him as a warrior rather than a regular mage. He'd been stumped.

He likely knew what his master wanted him to say, but Darian didn't have it in him to lie—and he was a terrible liar.

Judging from their conversations, Lys valued life and believed it was worth preserving. Darian agreed, to a point, but couldn't bring himself to fully commit to selfless benevolence.

"An honest question rarely causes harm, Darian. Go ahead and ask."

Darian swallowed his apprehension and asked, "Why don't you want to teach me how to fight?"

"I'm surprised you waited this long to bring this up again," Lys said, a faint smile etched on his granite features. "What makes you think I don't want to teach you how to fight?"

Darian wrinkled his eyebrows, "The way our last conversation ended, you didn't sound keen on the idea."

"I said I would not teach you without good reason." Lys steepled his hands, his eyes piercing Darian, "Have you come up with your reason?"

"Why do you need a reason?"

"Too many innocent people have paid the price for my misplaced trust. I have an obligation to avoid repeating my past mistakes," Lys said. "So... do you have a reason?"

"No… yes—I don't know," Darian threw up his hands. He didn't know what to say or how to say it, but he was sure he'd just thrown away the one chance Lys had given him. He put down the knife he was using to chop carrots and began to pace around the small kitchen.

"Walk me through your thoughts." Lys's voice was calm, and the lack of judgment soothed Darian enough to stop him in place.

"I know what you want to hear me say: that I want to protect people or do good or something like that, but that isn't the reason."

Lys nodded silently, his fingers still steepled together.

"I mean, there are a few people I want to keep safe, but they don't need it. Mapleton is safe, and that means they're safe."

"And what of protecting the innocent; would you risk your life to save their lives?"

Darian gripped the counter's edge, his head hanging, "I don't know. Maybe… if it made sense."

"So why learn to fight," asked Lys, "What purpose would it serve you?"

Darian deflated, his grip loosening and his head sagging even more. "I've been fighting every day for as long as I can remember," Darian spoke softly; his thoughts left him feeling embarrassed. They sounded so melodramatic when he voiced them. "I've been tolerated and judged by almost everyone I've ever met. All because of my parentage. Something I couldn't control. I think the only thing I ever had control of was my response to it all," Darian looked up at Lys, a hint of anger gripping him, "I decided to fight back against it. To take their shit and keep going because I realized that to do anything else would kill me inside."

Cold eyes framed by a face chiseled with lines look back at him. "Survival," He said flatly.

Darian continued, "At some point, I began to enjoy it. The struggle gave me a chance to prove to myself that I was still me... that I was still alive."

"Thank you for telling me the truth, Darian." Lys stood, and Darian's heart dropped with the sound of chair legs screeching across stone. That sound held a finality, like the tolling of a funeral bell.

That's that, then. Lys wouldn't be teaching him to fight, and Darian suspected he'd be lucky if he continued to teach him at all. Still, despite his embarrassment, Darian was proud of himself. Another victory, even if victory only meant he'd been true to himself.

Lys put his hands on the table, splaying his fingers like he meant to grip the table's surface. Here it comes.

"You will not go out of your way to protect the innocent," Darian winced at the proclamation as if he'd take a physical blow, "but would you bring deliberate harm to them?"

Darian blinked, confused by the question. "I…" Darian trailed off, thinking of all the fights he'd been in. Of all the times he'd deliberately picked them. Not once had Darian picked a fight he was certain of winning. He wasn't like Braxton, who'd been willing to beat on the younger boys and even a few girls to boost his ego. Darian would always respond, but he'd never beaten people for the base pleasure of it. Darian enjoyed a good scrap, but he was no bully. He shook his head. "No."

"Good," Lys said with a nod. "Some like to believe that power obligates you to help others, but I disagree. The only obligation that comes with power is not to make things worse."

"What happens now," asked Darian.

Lys's mouth fell into a sad smile, "We continue the current course. Undergo the operation, and once you've recovered, I will train you in every aspect of magic I know… Including combat."

Darian's eyes widened, "Are you serious?" He had to make sure he hadn't misheard Lys. Surely, his ears were playing tricks on him.

"I was always going to teach you, at least to some degree."

"Why refuse months ago, then," asked Darian.

"Power without purpose is a dangerous force to unleash upon the world, and like any pair of idle hands, power will seek to be used." Lys let out a tired sigh, "I needed reassurance that I wasn't letting loose another monster upon the world."

Darian chuckled, then a nervous laugh bubbled up from his chest, "You're serious. You're going to teach me!"

"I am," Lys chuckled as well, "After so many years, I'll have another…" Lys trailed off as he cocked his head to the side.

Darian watched as a plethora of emotions warred over Lys's features. The change in his mood surprised Darian. Pain, fear, relief, exuberance… sadness. Those and more. Darian stayed silent, watching as the man processed something. Finally, a look of determination settled on Lys's features, and a silver band appeared in his right hand. It was a delicate-looking signet ring. A set of scales was engraved in its center, a sword on the right weight, and a scroll on the left, both equally balanced.

"Darian, would you do something for me," Lys spoke softly, his voice solemn.

Darian nodded in return.

"Repeat after me; I pledge to learn and to serve with commitment and honor."

The sudden change in Lys confused Darian, but he repeated the pledge. Lys offered him the ring.

"Wear it with pride and treat your oath with honor. Congratulations; you are the first initiate of the Lucentine Order since before the Fall." A genuine smile split Lys's face, flashing pearl-white teeth.

Darian couldn't help but smile back, "I have no idea what that means."