Quill drifted lazily across paper, occasionally finding its way once more to the inkwell before resuming the monotonous once again. Caldrice flared his nostrils, sighing, as he gazed through the foggy window pane to the vague shapes of falling snowflakes. Slowly, he heard a rhythmic knock.

“Cal?” Adelia’s familiar voice sounded from the threshold, “Can I come in?”

Looking over his shoulder, he’d nod, “Of course.” Gesturing to several pages on his desk, “The company would be welcome.”

“What are you working on?” She mused softly, arms folded behind her back as she slowly strode through the small room riddled with various blank-faced books and maps strewn across the floor, “Definitely not cleaning your room, I see.” She teased.

“Master Delarin gave up on telling me to months ago, Adelia. If I cleaned it, it would just be the same again in a few days. It’s just a waste of time.”

“Yeah, but what if rats move in, living in the near-literal fortress of books you’ve assembled?”

Caldrice snorted, wrinkling his nose as he tried to stifle his laughter, “I mean, is it really so obscure?” Heavily, he slammed his open palm against the oaken desk, “I’ll just smash them with the books!”

“Not if they eat you while you’re sleeping.” Adelia retorted, “There’s a lot of maps here.” She mumbled softly to herself as she kneeled down, inspecting the first ones that stuck out to her, “Planning a trip, huh?”

“Sort of.”

Her eyes scanned towards the signature of one towards the worn, yellowed bottom, “The Merchant’s Pocket Guide to Midland.” She said aloud, before standing up, “What do you mean sort of?” Her voice raised slightly as she tightly rolled up the map, “Nobody goes to Midland anymore, Caldrice.”

“All the more reason to go then, is it not?” He wrinkled his nose, “No caravans on the roads, or flocks of murderous bandits lurking in the bushes. Just a young man and his thoughts, it seems pretty serene.”

“Stop being so aloof, Caldrice! You know why nobody goes there.”

“Proximity to the Plaguelands.” They said in unison, Caldrice’s dismissive tone drowning hers out, “Look, Adelia, I know. I’m aware, and quite frankly, I don’t want to go myself.”

“Then why are you going?”

“Master Delarin has acquired an audience for me with High Lord Photia.”

“What does that have to do with traversing a part of Paelmun that infects people with an incurable disease?” She prodded, hands resting against her hips.

“It’s one of the conditions that the High Lord stipulated for this audience.”

Haphazardly, she threw the map to the floor – the old parchment unfurling into a partially curled shape before she shook her head, “Is he so far disconnected from the things that happen here that he’s completely unaware to the nature of that vile region?”

“Adelia.”

“No, Caldrice, I’m not going to stop. I won’t stop whenever one of my only friends casually mentions that he’s going into a highly infectious area on the whim of someone that many of us have never even seen before.”

“Adelia!” He shouted, rising from his chair hastily, “Just stop and let me explain. You’re always jumping to conclusions and filling in the details yourself.” He sighed, shaking his head, “It’s something I really hate about you, so can I at least explain it as it was explained to me?”

Her eyes widened, mouth agape, but no words came forth. Adelia’s brow furrowed lightly before her mouth closed, jaw clenched, nodding reluctantly.

“They don’t think that the plague will affect me – at least, that’s what Master Delarin was told from the High Lord.” He shrugged lightly, “They said that the only people affected were those who had reached the age of free-flowing Arcana through their bodies, and those with unorthodox Arcana like in the case of High Arcanist Delris.”

“So.” Adelia finally spoke, “Since you’ve no Arcana in your body at all, not a single trace, they think you’re, what, immune to the Ebonshroud?”

“That’s how it was explained to me.”

“Why are you so okay about this, Caldrice?”

Sighing, he raked his fingers through dense ebon hair, “There’s somethings that I can’t quite explain right now, since it’s not something for me to say, but they think something’s happening in the region, but they don’t know exactly what.”

“So you’re going to be a scout? What if the thing they’re worried about it a lot worse than they imagined?”

Caldrice grinned, “Well, I suppose you’d never think I’d say this, but I believe that all of my long nights of hiding from Master Delarin would’ve served me well. I’ve never been overly strong, Adelia, partially due to the lack of Arcana, but I do believe that my greatest weakness can become my greatest strength in this situation.”

“When will you go?” Adelia finally asked, arms crossing heavily against her chest.

“I’ll accompany you on the road to Kur at first, but we’ll part ways after you’re escorted safely to the obelisk.”

“How can you be so certain that he’s telling the truth?”

“What do you mean?” Caldrice asked, pursing his lips.

“I don’t know.” Adelia gritted her teeth, “You’ve said it yourself – he’s been acting suspicious. As for activity in Midland, or the Plaguelands, this is the first I’ve hear about it.” She shook her head, “Think about it, Caldrice. Why would my father, and a man who’s seldom seen outside of his throne room take a sudden interest in a region that’s been inactive for a over a decade? It doesn’t make sense.” Slowly, she raked slender fingers through her auburn hair, “I’m more concerned as to why you want to go along with this. This isn’t you – it isn’t in your nature.”

Silence followed for several moments – a stoic expression enveloping his face like a mask. For all of the thoughts that could be going through his head – there were none.

She’s right. Was all that resounded through the void of his mind.

“Caldrice?” She said softly, peering into his eyes.

“Huh?” He said, blinking.

“Nothing to say? Nothing at all?”

“I’d rather not embark on this suicidal journey either, but he’s put the carrot on the stick. Apparently, if what he says is true, then whenever I get to Kur, the High Lord will be waiting to receive me after the Remembrance ceremony to discuss my stunted Arcana.”

“That’s another thing.” She murmured, a heavy tone to her voice, “I don’t recall any messenger pigeons, or Far-Riders being sent out within the past month.”

“Then maybe these plans were made far in advance?”

“Then what else have they talked about involving you – if this is the first time you’ve heard of this?” Shaking her head, she frowned deeply, “I don’t want you to go.”

“What can I do then, Adelia? Take the obelisk to Kur with you? You need to have some Arcana to trigger the rune, which I have absolutely none of, and you know that teleporting two people in that confined of a space would be a disaster – we’ve never even tried a minor incantation involving me before.” Widely, he gestured towards the mess of books and maps that littered his floor, “My own two feet and a dream are all I’ve got. Sure, it seems uneasy, this situation, but it’s all I’ve got. You can lecture me all you’d like about how dangerous this is, and although I’d rather not go through that cursed region, I finally have the faint chance of an opportunity that I may find some answers.” He shrugged, exasperated as he focused intently on her, “Seeing you, Master Delarin, and all of the Frostfall Initiates do all of these fantastical things?” He laughed, “I’d love to be able to do those as well, no matter how minor, because the worlds we exist in are drastically different.”

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“The world of the fantastical, and the world of the absolutely mundane.” He’d continue – a faint burning to his eyes, “If your life was in danger you could conjure some wall of ice to protect you from being cut down. Me? I must rely on my reflexes. If I’m not fast enough with deflecting a blow, or following through quick enough? I’m through, my life is over. There is no saving arcane grace for me. No contingency plan, which is why it baffles me that you’re so confused as to why I want this so much, although I don’t feel certain about it either.”

“Cal-“

“I’m not done yet.” He said coldly, “I’ll never understand why you passively mock me about having no Arcana, when you must know on some level how I feel.” His lips curled up with a bitter grin, “So, I’ll do what needs to be done for myself, while you continue to do the same for you.”

“I’ve heard enough.” Adelia said, kicking aside piles of books to leave the room, “Sorry for caring, I’ll be sure to remember that next time. All of it.” A loud, resounding slam echoed through the room as his door was forced shut, causing more arrangements of books to fall in a heap.

Despite the rush of cool air from the shutting door, Caldrice still felt the comfortable heat of rage that had slowly built up moments prior. It slowly faded away as he exhaled through flared nostrils.

You just don’t know when to stop.

Quietly, he made his way across the room – picking up the mess of toppled books, glancing passingly at the cover of each one as he arranged them back into their respective stacks and piles that he had them in before.

You always have to push too far.

“I don’t know how to give up.” Caldrice finally said to himself – clearing the ceaseless noise of thoughts from his mind. He eased himself onto his bed, squinting his eyes against the harsh daylight pouring in through the window. Sluggishly, he peeled his shirt away from his body tossing it haphazardly across the room, only to have it land, and hang limply, against his normally overstocked shelf of books. Rolling his eyes, he laid fully down onto the bed. Caldrice’s eyes drifted to the peculiar markings inked into his torso, an artifact of his past that he couldn’t remember what brought it into being. There were some things he recognized about the pattern, though. It was comprised of six equidistant seals which lined the innate circular pattern of the marking. Although he didn’t know what it meant, where it came from, or who marked him with this peculiar series of symbols, he did understand what the Southern-most seal was. He recognized it from the crest of Master Delarin’s House Frostfall – the fundamental rune of water.

A slow rhythmic knocking disrupted his thoughts, “Caldrice?” The familiar voice of Master Delarin resounded faintly through the wood, “May I come in?”

“Of course, Master.” As he heard the door open, he cursed himself silently, “Please mind the mess, I’ve been busy looking at maps and various accounts of the Plaguelands and Midland.”

“It’s, ah, quite alright.” The Guardian murmured as he cautiously eased himself into the room and around the books. “Where are-“ He slowly began, looking around the room before making eye contact, “Oh! I didn’t expect this.”

“What did Adelia tell you?” Caldrice asked, sighing heavily.

“She didn’t necessarily tell me much, other than coming into my study, ranting about you for some time, and then leaving when, I assume, she got tired.” Master Delarin sat down at the edge of the bed, leaning against one of the posts, “Why did you tell her about what we were planning do, Caldrice?”

“She’s not as courteous as you are.” He said, “You know her – always barging in and snooping through things whether she wants to or not.”

“You also forget that this house echoes.” Master Delarin pointed out, “Not through the rooms, but enough in the halls to know that she was sure to ask before entering.”

“I suppose that was an honest mistake on my part.”

“None of that answers my original question, though.”

Caldrice rubbed his face lazily, “I suppose it’s a half-lie. I invited her in, and she saw what I was studying, and what I was mapping out, and then she got rather upset.”

“With no effort to try to hide what you were working on?”

“Master, with all due respect, Adelia’s just as suspicious of suddenly hiding work than you are. If I would’ve told her to go away, then that would’ve sparked her curiosity even more.” Caldrice pursed his lips, “Are you aware that she can pick most of the locks in this house? I can’t tell you how many times I’ve told her to go way, only to wake up to find what I’ve been working on suddenly vanish.” He paused, rubbing his face slowly, “She got upset whenever she whittled me down enough to lash out at her. I didn’t harm her, but she couldn’t understand why I’d want to go through with this.”

“Do you really blame her, though?”

“In some ways? Yes, I suppose I do.” Caldrice said simply, “Being trapped here in a place where everyone can accomplish fantastical feats, meanwhile I’m barely able to keep up a sequence of blocks and parries.” He adjusted his pillow slightly, repositioning himself to more comfortably look at his master, “Sometimes I feel like I would’ve been better off in Erast, where the Arcane isn’t as important.” His lips curled downward slightly, “Perhaps it would be easier if I knew who my parents were, or where I came from, or what these markings mean.”

“Your parents were good people,” Delarin said softly, “I can tell you about them, if you’d like.” His expression shifted slightly, “As for the markings on your chest,” He slowly began, “I don’t know for sure what they are.”

“How did you know my parents?” Caldrice asked, his brow quirking.

“Your mother was a Guardian, much like myself. Your father was a bit of an eccentric man, kind yet terrifying in his own ways although he was not bound to the world in the same way that your mother was.”

“Which leyline did my mother protect?” He asked, as his mind swirled around him in a locust swarm of questions.

“She was bound to the Midland line, claiming stewardship over the natural forests and heartland of Paelmun.”

“Does that mean-“

“She’s been dead for a long time, Caldrice.” Master Delarin said somberly, “I’d extend my condolences, but I don’t believe that you have any memories of her.”

“No, I don’t,” Caldrice said distantly, “But it doesn’t mean that I can’t feel some type of grief. Remorse, maybe. Just because I don’t remember her doesn’t mean I didn’t once.” He rubbed his face slowly, “There was love there once, I assume, and maybe one day I’ll remember what it was like.”

“A very poetic way of looking at it. I’m impressed.”

“It comes naturally whenever all I’ve got for interaction aside from you and Adelia are books. As I’m sure you knew, appreciation for both the written and spoken word came naturally.”

“It was one of my fears.” Master Delarin said, chuckling softly.

“A well-warranted one too, I may add.” Caldrice mumbled. “So, what about my father? What can you tell me of him?”

“Well, as I said, he is a bit eccentric.” The Guardian sighed, “A bit too eccentric for his own good.”

“Is?” Caldrice parroted.

“Indeed.” Master Delarin nodded, “He was one of the few that survived the Ebonshroud, and ended the destruction of Midland for better or for worse.”

“What do you mean, ‘for better or for worse?’” Caldrice said, confused.

“I suppose to begin this story, I’d have to start with another one. You’re familiar with the Fallen Angel, correct?”

“Vaguely.” Caldrice said admittedly, “I know that it’s something of a cautionary tale, used to keep children from acting poorly, correct?”

“A partial truth, one that I told Adelia to keep her from misbehaving.” Master Delarin said, stroking his beard contemplatively, “It’s grounded in truth, though.”

“So, there was a creature that flew across the night sky during the peak of the Ebonshroud that destroyed Midland from above?” Caldrice asked, “Something that was capable of destroying all of the homes while also indiscriminately slaughtering nearly-all of the men, women, and children?”

“I see you’re more versed on the topic than you let on.”

“I wanted to see if you could tell me more about it without asking.”

“Well, there is more to this tale.” Master Delarin admitted, “Your father was able to stop this creature, this is true, but it was at the cost of the region’s Ley-Focus.”

“What do you mean, at the cost of the Ley-Focus?”

“Simply put, to stop this Fallen Angel, he had to shatter the leyline cluster it was connected to.”

Caldrice sat up, his palms resting against his knees as he laughed, “You aren’t being serious right now, are you?” He asked, facing Master Delarin fully, “Someone who isn’t a Guardian being able to singlehandedly destroy a Ley-Focus?”

“It’s a complicated series of events to explain fully, but your father was, and still is, a powerful Arcanist. There’s not really much else I can disclose.”

“Not even a name?”

Delarin shook his head, “That was one thing he specifically told me not to tell you.”

“So, what is my father to me then?” Caldrice asked, his face beginning to twist into a scowl, “Alive, but not in my life? What different is he from the ghosts of my life I cannot remember?”

“He anticipated your unruly nature.” Master Delarin sighed, patting at the air, “Young Caldrice, if you knew who he was, then you’d stop at nothing to hunt him down and ask him every question you possible could until you’d turn blue in the face.”

“But-“

“No exceptions. Your father’s position is one that’s unfortunate, but was unavoidable based on the choices he made.” He pursed his lips, shaking his head, “It’s a difficult path for a parent to choose, don’t you know?”

“The path of the Guardian – I’m well aware,” Caldrice retorted. “You’ll eventually have to make a similar choice for Adelia.”

“Once again, I am impressed by your dedication to reading, but we’ve kept one another for long enough. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to go down to the market to see if you can’t find her?”

“She left in quite the hurry, Master.”

A withered hand gently patted Caldrice’s shoulder, “It’s only because she’s worried about you. Aside from me, you’re all she has.”

“Do you believe that I should genuinely pursue?”

Delarin chuckled, “She said quite a few things when she burst into my office, howling like a banshee.” He rose from the bed, straightening his ceremonial robes, “I’ll even turn a blind eye and leave a pouch of coins that won’t be counted into your monthly allowance.” The Master stretched, a relieved sigh falling from his lips as looked over his shoulder with a soft grin, “For any unforeseen expenses that may arise.”