The Final Teaching

The last lesson is the most enduring.

The Final Teaching

I walked over to the huge octagon formed by two regular squares, in which I discovered many more polygons, and on the vertices of the innermost pentagon were the regalia. They shone. The magic made the air stifling. It crackled with arcane energy, casting flickering shadows across my face. Each artifact shimmered, resonating with ancient power that hummed through the chamber.

Without a moment's hesitation, I stepped over one of the tangled lines of the magic circle — something told me I need not fear injury. I picked up the earring, and the glow suddenly dimmed. I reached for the button, then for a heavy metal bangle, and put it to my pocket.

I was about to get the last one, which was a long-stemmed pipe. Suddenly it disappeared from my sight. At the last moment, I caught her hand before she could get away with the regalia.

"One move and I'll smash your wrist to splinters," I said.

Surprise and shock spread across her face. She must have been in his early thirties, but only in appearance. She had chestnut-brown hair and greyish, flickering eyes. Her face was marred by a scar that ran from her left cheek to her chin line and continued down her neck. Her eyes slowly began to take on a shade of blue instead of grey. What the hell?

"You can follow my movements," she stated matter of factly, "Are you... fae?"

Surprise and defiance flickered in her eyes. She was no ordinary mage, but a formidable opponent. 

"Now's your only chance to give me back that shitty pipe," I declared coldly, "Trust me, there won't be any more."

She chuckled softly, a sound that grated against my patience. "Don't even dream of it!"

My patience wearing thin, I tightened my grip further, feeling the beast within me stir. It was a primal force, ancient and savage, yearning for battle. But for some reason, the beast did not attack. It merely relished the challenge this mage posed, almost purring with delight. What the heck?

"Give it back while I still have patience," I growled threateningly.

The beast thirsted for the clash of wills, hungry to dominate and subdue. To dominate and subdue. Not to kill. This is a first.

"I must disappoint you. I need it."

"Kill her!" I heard the familiar voice.

I glanced back at the tiny mage, who was trembling with emotion, staring at her with a smoldering look that would have made most people run for their lives.

She merely smiled at him sweetly. "Livius. How are you doing?"

The Sorcerer Lord ignored her, he was looking at me. "What are you waiting for? Kill her!"

The monster in me definitely wanted to kill Livius. I returned my gaze to her eyes, which now looked back at me with warm, golden-brown irises. The beast became eerily calm. What the heck?

"You're not a bad guy, are you?" she asked with a gentle smile.

This gentleness reminded me of when I met Hajnal... And no matter what Livius said, my grip on her was loosening. She winked at me, pulled his hand out of my hand, and disappeared from my sight.

"Why?!" snapped Livius, "Why didn't you listen to me? Why didn't you kill her?!!"

"I didn't want to," I whispered, now facing the wrath of the tiny wizard.

He laughed sharply. "No kidding! You had your chance to kill her, Shaytan! No one has been able to touch her for decades! And you let her go with one of the regalia!" he shouted.

"You don't understand, Livius," I said icily, "I never kill without reason. She did nothing against me, how did you expect me to just kill her?"

My cold tone had finally brought the tiny mage to his senses, and he was no longer determined to pierce me with his gaze.

"All right, I understand," he said, "But remember, if you lose sight of the consequences of war for one battle... you will inevitably become the murderer of many. That is the responsibility of a ruler."

(...)

I looked at the flames, wondering. Aleshio took a seat next to me without a sound.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked with genuine curiosity.

"It was too easy..." I said, "I mean, killing the necromancer. I thought it would be harder."

He raised an eyebrow. "You almost died. Not just once but twice."

I shrugged and Aleshio sighed.

"At his full strength, you wouldn't have stood a chance against him. So don't get carried away, you didn't win because you were strong, you won because your opponent was weak. You still have room for improvement."

"There is only one way to kill a necromancer," Aleshio added, "and that is to make him spend more than a day away from his cave."

"What?"

"No one knows the real reason why, but no necromancer can leave the place where he was reborn," he explained, "At least not for more than a day. If they break this rule, their souls are ripped from their bodies, which then disappear without a trace in a few hours, leaving no evidence of the necromancer's existence. They are omnipotent in their realm but at the price of not being allowed to leave it."

"There's a loophole: he's cast a spell to seal his soul in the pendant, so he was free to search. However, it must have taken a lot of power to keep it in that gem, and he must have also been exhausted by powering up the amulets. He was severely weakened," Aleshio mused, "That was your only chance to win."

"I see," I said just to say something.

"There is something else that worries me about him," I said, "The true form of the necromancer... It was eerily similar..."

"To one of your friends," Aleshio finished for me, and I nodded immediately, "I suppose you've guessed by now: he was his ancestor."

He smiled bitterly. "Magic is fading from the world. This is best illustrated by the fact that the bloodline of a strong and particularly talented mage shows no magic after less than nine hundred years."

"Moses told me that he has his diary," I said. "Isn't it dangerous? I mean, he's not going to suddenly go mad wanting to take over the world, is he?"

Aleshio shook his head. "That diary is one of his early records. Back then he was just a curious kid writing down his experiences."

We sat quietly side by side for a while. This time I broke the silence.

"One last question," I began, "Who was that woman? And why did Livius want me to kill her that much?"

"That's two questions," he remarked absently.

I shrugged. Doesn't matter.

"Myriad," he declared, "The Mage of a Thousand Colours. Most people call her that because her eyes reflect her soul: as you have seen, her irises take on different colours according to her emotions," he thought for a moment, "Who is she? I don't think anybody really knows, but she is one of the oldest mages alive today."

He thought for a moment, seeming to go back in time through his memories. Then he spoke again:

"The greatest mages inevitably run into each other now and then throughout their lives — so I've met her a few times. She is a volatile woman, her anger has erased villages. Although we were on opposing sides, I wouldn't say I had a bad opinion of her, but most people wanted her dead. No one ever knows exactly what she is planning, so she is terribly dangerous. Her plans have caused the death of many, so it's natural that many people want to take her down."

He looked at me. "She owes you a life, and she won't forget it. Even if she is a dangerous woman, it is an advantage that she has become your debtor."

"Anyway, Shaytan, take my advice," he said, "Stay alert! The members of the Circle got to know your name too. They will watch you at best, try to kill you at worst."

Aleshio stood up and stretched.

"I should go," he said, and then gestured at himself, "Surely the owner will notice sooner or later that I borrowed his body."

"Hm."

He cast a sad look at the fire. "I do not belong here anymore."

"Indeed," I said, just to say something.

"Sometimes," he began, "I miss this world."

I didn't look up at him. I didn't want to see his face as he said those words. The veil between the two worlds had weakened. Aleshio can never return here — just as I can never enter the Mirrorworld. We cannot risk breaking the boundaries.

"Tell me..." he said softly. "Will you remember me?"

I gave him a dirty look. "I couldn't forget an annoying person like you even if I wanted to."

He smiled. I stood up and dusted off my pants. Finally, I sighed deeply and held out my hand to him. Aleshio was surprised at first, but finally wrapped his fingers softly around mine. He squeezed my hand for a tiny eternity and then suddenly, as if he had forgotten his fingers there, he let go. I looked thoughtfully at the peculiar colour of his eyes.

"Because we are similar," he declared.

I turned pale.

"I lied when I said I couldn't read minds, of course, as the greatest mage ever, I can," he declared with a sly half smile, "You started to forget that there are some people who can completely control the beating of their hearts. So, the answer to your question is: I chose you because we are similar. I saw you through that frozen puddle when you were fighting Dorian Vincze — although it's true, only for a moment."

"What do you mean, we are similar?", I asked.

"You are surrounded by a similar glow, something that only necromancers and those from the Mirrorworld can see. I can't really explain it," he said.

"Hm."

"But more importantly, you do not desire power," he added with a gentle smile. "You are the only one I can trust with the future."

"Please don't," I grimaced, "It's too much work."

He chuckled. "Nothing is too much work for us when we want to protect the ones we adore."

I did not respond but he knew already what I was thinking so I didn't need to.

"The last thing I want to say about necromancers... about Giro," he continued. "Why do you think he told you his real name?"

He looked deep into my eyes and I must have looked dumb because he answered in the end.

"All mages hide their real names because names hold power. However, if you know the name of a necromancer... you can call on them."

"Call on them?" I repeated.

"Yes," Aleshio nodded. "Even if you are at the other end of the world, if you call their name they will hear it."

I felt my eyes widening. I stood there dumbfounded for a moment, unable to speak my thoughts.

"Why?" That was the only world I could squeeze out.

"Because I choose you. You are my successor," he stated.

Aleshio's words weighed heavily on me. I could feel the burden of his choice settling on my shoulders like a tangible weight. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat resonating with the magnitude of his declaration. I had never sought power, had never wanted the responsibility that came with it. Yet here I was, chosen by one of the greatest mages to carry forward a legacy I was only beginning to understand.

"You can't do this to me," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I never asked for this."

Aleshio's gaze softened, and he reached out to place a comforting hand on my shoulder. "I know, Shay."

That was all he said. He didn't want soothe my anger or offer me any explanations or excuses.

I turned away, looking at the flickering flames that danced in the hearth. The shadows they cast seemed to mock me, their twisting shapes whispering of the gravity of this burden. The beast within me stirred, restless and uneasy, sensing that even if I was dissatisfied with the situation it could not deal with Aleshio even if he wanted to beat him to a pulp. Aleshio was the only one who could make the beast halt and cover.

"Remember, you can call on Giro. He will come to your aid, and so will I, in whatever way I can," he added as if sensing my sour mood.

"Why must it be me?" I asked with contempt. "Why can't you choose Livius?"

"I'm going to erase some of Liv's memories," he stated instead of answering.

"What?" I was surprised.

"The ones about the real function of the regalia, the magic circle and the method by which the necromancer was able to seal his soul in the pendant. With a single glance, Livus could determine the exact spells, and though I trust him, this knowledge is too dangerous to leave to him. I simply don't want to tempt him. Every mage craves power," he explained sadly.

I did not reply so he continued.

"Remember, most desire power. Many beings desire the throne you were born to sit on, but even if you don't want it and want to give it up, you will still have to fight for it," I wanted to speak, but he waved me off, "If you don't, you could lose everything else. They will not tolerate competition, they will destroy you and your famiglia if you don't fight. Become a king to protect the things you adore!"

"That would mean losing it," I protested, "I could no longer live my quiet little life! Everyone would find out who I was and hunt me down!"

He smiled slyly. "What are you talking about, Shaytan? You don't even resemble the Hueless King. He has silver hair and claws."

I sighed.

"The next thing is about your royal title," he continued, "I suppose you've noticed that people tend to grant your wishes."

"Mm-hmm," I waved, "Fae mumbo jumbo."

"Although they are indeed endearing, fae can't do that, Shay," he said, to my surprise.

"It's a rare ability that rulers have," he explained, "It's called the King's Command. In your case, it has not yet fully shown itself. I wanted to show you how to use it, but it seems I won't have the chance. In any case, I'm sure you'll be able to master it successfully on your own."

I looked at him incredulously, but he just smiled encouragingly.

"Time to go," he remarked but hadn't moved yet.

"Take care, Shay," he said seriously, "I'm sure you'll make a fine king."

I grimaced, and he laughed. He nodded towards my friends across the living room I only then noticed their presence — and a moment later he disappeared behind the door. Aldo Aleshio Baldassarre, the world's most stubborn and sentimental black mage, disappeared from my life — leaving me with the task of explaining everything to my friends.

"What were you talking about?" stepped Alex.

I had already taken a huge, deep breath to vehemently deny everything when Rolo spoke up.

"We haven't heard anything," he remarked nervously. He's been nervous ever since black mages suddenly crept into our lives. "He must have used some kind of spell."

"Oh."

"So?" the wolf interjected, and Rolo's eyes certainly sparkled with curiosity.

"He didn't say anything special," I replied, "He just warned me about my future."

Livius was waiting for Aleshio by the door, leaning against the wall. Only when his master appeared beside him did he open his closed eyes.

"There are a few things that need an explanation," the tiny mage began.

Aleshio remained silent, but Livius was not deterred.

"He was the only one who could have found the regalia, is that why you chose him, or could he have found them because you chose him?"

Aleshio nodded. He did not answer so Livius could take either option as true.

"How was he able to enter the circle?" he demanded, then pulled out his most valuable treasure behind his robes. "It was too close to the other regalia. No doubt the gates opened for a moment. It simply should have been impossible."

Aleshio looked deep into his apprentice's eyes.

"How do you think he managed it?" he asked instead of answering.

Livius ruffled his hair thoughtfully. This movement, these emotions, looked so impossible on his childish face.

"That's just it," he continued, "I can't find out!"

"That's not true," Aleshio observed, "You just can't accept what you've found out."

The Sorcerer Lord's lips trembled, but in the end he said nothing, just stared at the blades of grass. Then his hand slipped to the locket. He squeezed it. Aleshio raised his eyes to the sky. Perhaps he wanted to admire it one last time.

"You may feel it no longer belongs to you, but I still think it has its best place in your hands," he began, "The fact that the regalia have yielded to his will merely means that he is a worthy disciple of mine."

"If I had gone..." Liv trailed off and had to gather strength again to continue. "Could I have stopped the spell?"

Aleshio sighed deeply. "Who knows?"

They both knew he would not tell the truth. They were silent for a while, Aleshio studying the sky, Livius continuing to study the blades of grass.

"One thing you should know," said Aleshio, "That day, I chose this fate for myself. I forbid you to continue to feel guilty."

Livius looked up at his former master in disbelief. His eyes widened, his lips parted in surprise. Aleshio smiled warmly at him, with a sincere affection that perhaps Livius had never hoped to see on his features again. He ruffled the boy's hair.

"This is our farewell, Liv," Aleshio said, but there was no bitterness in his voice, "Probably our final farewell."

Tears welled up in Liv's eyes as he nodded his head with the large, warm palm still on his head. Though they both certainly wished time would stand still, his master withdrew his hand.

"I am proud of you," Aleshio declared, "You have become a truly noble and powerful mage. A true sorcerer."

It was too much for Livius. He bowed deeply, perhaps not wanting his master to see the tears in his eyes.

"It has been the greatest honour to know you and learn magic from you. Thank you for everything, Master!"

His tears glistened on the grass. When he rose, there was no trace of Aleshio: it was as if he had never existed.

Livius stood still, his tears streaming silently down his cheeks, only to fall like silvery pearls into the abyss. I drew back the blackout curtain.