I woke up from the cold. The warm sand had cooled, and the sunny day had given way to night with a sharp, biting wind. I looked around. Some girl was sitting nearby.
"Shish?" I called out, not seeing the cat nearby. "Where are you?"
"Don't worry, the kitten was taken into the building," the stranger's voice seemed incredibly familiar to me.
"Riza?" I asked, trying to get a look at her in the dark. "Is that you? Why is your voice so... different? And where are your wings?"
The girl stood up and sat closer to me. Only then did I realize my mistake.
"Alastia?" I froze.
She smiled:
"I was afraid you wouldn't recognize me anymore."
"What are you doing here? Studying too?"
She didn't answer. She simply took off her glove and placed her palm on my head, slowly stroking my hair. In that very second, such a heavy, sweet drowsiness washed over me, the likes of which I hadn't felt in an eternity. It seemed I was starting to fall asleep right under her hand. In my half-slumber, I fancied that my black hair was turning white beneath her fingers, returning to its true color.
"So you didn't answer..." I mumbled. "Studying here? They said some great Archmage is coming to teach tomorrow. But judging by his student, this master is so-so, pretty lousy."
I heard a quiet, soft laugh.
"I am the Supreme Archmage, Zenhald. I received the title when I reached the fifth floor of the second building."
"Wow..." I could barely move my tongue. "Are there really that many stairs there?"
"A lot of them," she confirmed. "And why are you wearing a blindfold? I was told some blind kid arrived, a very talented one."
"I'm just too handsome for this place. Hiding my eyes, otherwise they'll get it in their heads to marry me off, and I don't need that."
Alastia sighed, continuing to stroke my head.
"You're still the same."
"What, was I supposed to change?" I tried to fish at least something out of my memory. "By the way, how's Kael? And Anna... they got married, right? How's Alexia? Lianel? Oh, and Alfus—what about him?"
A minute of silence fell. Only the sound of the waves and the whistle of the wind.
"They all died," Alastia said quietly.
"Oh. That's a bit sad. Oh well..." I fell silent for a moment, digesting this, but my memory was already tossing up new names. "And Elvindor? Is he helping you?"
"He died," she interrupted.
"Huh? How did he die? I literally just saw him yesterday... or when was that? Elvindor..."
I shook my head, trying to chase away the fog.
"And Riza?" I tried to give my voice a cheerful tone. "She's definitely helping you, she's..."
"Riza died."
My heart skipped a beat. The rhythm faltered; it became tight and cold in my chest.
"Riza... Riza died? But how? She had her whole life ahead of her... How?!"
I jerked up sharply, finally waking up completely. I opened my eyes—tears rolled down my cheeks from under the blindfold. This couldn't be. Not Riza.
"But... but... Riza..."
Alastia placed her hand on the back of my head again and pressed gently, forcing me to lie back down on the cold sand. Her fingers again began to rhythmically comb through my hair.
"Sleep, Zenhald. Sleep. You don't need to remember this."
The darkness became thick and insurmountable. My consciousness faded, and I again fell into a dreamless sleep.
I woke up in a new room—this time in a private one. I looked out the window: some sort of ceremony was already in full swing in the courtyard. The kids were lined up in rows, and around them stood old men, old women, and some important-looking guys and ladies. Alastia stood in the center, broadcasting something. Among the crowd, I noticed Aurora and another weird girl in a mask—she was drilling a hole into my window with her stare.
What are you looking at? I thought and turned away.
I went downstairs. The building was empty and quiet.
"Hey, wait! Where's my pie?!"
I sprinted to the kitchen as fast as my legs could carry me. On the table, forlornly covered by a napkin, lay only one pathetic slice. ONE.
"How did this happen?!" I walked around the plate from all sides, hoping the rest was simply invisible.
Seriously? For such torture—one slice? I sat on a chair, looking resentfully at my "reward." I swallowed it quickly, gloomily chewing the dough. Next time—goods first, then services. No credit.
I sat in the dining room for a long time, probably a whole hour, just staring blankly at the empty wall. Finally, the doors swung open, and the building filled with noise, din, and the stomping of hundreds of feet. Everyone ran past, and only that girl in the mask cracked the door open again, looked at me, and instantly vanished. What kind of strange people reside here?
Then Alastia and some old woman walked in. Absolutely ancient, all wrinkled up like an old apple. Seeing me, she froze, and then, with obvious disbelief, began to approach. They sat across from me.
"Alastia, what is the meaning of this? Where's my pie?" I immediately started with the main issue.
"What pie?" she asked in surprise.
"THIS ONE!" I poked my finger at the empty plate.
"Zenhald, that wasn't your pie," Alastia chuckled. "It was baked specifically for me, in honor of my arrival."
"Liars..." I mumbled.
I folded my arms on the table, rested my head on them, and looked pitifully at Alastia, demanding compensation with my entire demeanor. She understood everything without words: she smiled, took off her glove, and began to softly stroke my hair. I think I'm about to start purring right here.
"Yes... from here he looks completely different," the old woman's rattling voice rang out.
I cast a sidelong glance at her:
"And who might you be?"
She straightened up, cleared her throat, and folded her hands in her lap.
"I am Marla. Do you remember me?"
"Uhh... no. What Marla?"
The old woman wilted, hunching over again. Her voice became quiet and scratchy.
"I was studying at the Academy back then. I was a smug fool, thought I was the best."
"Alright, alright, alright, stop," I interrupted her. "Can we get to the point?"
She exhaled, not taking offense.
"That day there were combat magic competitions at the Academy. Three years in a row I took the cup, I was..."
"OH COME ON, make it shorter!"
She stumbled, but continued:
"That day you stood against me."
"And so what?"
"At first I thought you were just an inexperienced snot. But how wrong I was. You didn't even attack me. You just threw back your hood and looked me in the eyes. I still remember what I saw there. Ranging from my own death to the realization of how insignificant my life, my dreams, and my goals were. I saw the worst moments of my future. Then I realized how powerful the beings in this world can be..."
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I listened to her with half an ear, almost falling asleep under Alastia's hand.
"Uh-huh, uh-huh," I mumbled when she fell silent. "I don't remember you at all. Most likely, I just decided not to remember you. There were too many 'Marlas' like you, not enough memory for everyone."
The old woman just smiled sadly and fell silent. And I closed my eyes, enjoying being petted.
"Alright, Alastia, I'll go to the others," Marla said, getting up from the table.
"Alright," Alastia nodded.
And Alastia looked at me attentively:
"Don't you want to teach? Become a teacher? You were... a very good mentor."
"Nope," I cut her off without hesitation. "Zero desire whatsoever. Teaching someone is an extra headache, and I have enough of those as it is."
I stood up, walked another couple of meters, lazily chasing a current of air with my fingers.
"By the way, what happened anyway? Where did all the normal magic go? I'm just pushing air back and forth here, and everyone looks at me like I've turned an ocean backwards."
Alastia sighed, her face turning serious.
"The war changed everything, Zenhald. Muskets, cannons, mortars, gunpowder... bombs. All of this overturned the concept of battles. Adult, experienced mages still coped, but novices? Why spend years learning to control an element when you can just pick up a musket? A regular guy with a bullet in the barrel is now on equal footing with a beginner mage."
She paused, looking out the window at the training courtyard.
"A dilemma arose: the old folks remained, but new masters simply weren't being born. Everyone went into technology. Only recently did I decide to take matters into my own hands and try to return magic to this world."
"What, couldn't it move forward without you at all?" I smirked.
"It moved, but very poorly. Right now, this center is the biggest in the world."
"What? The biggest?" I was genuinely surprised, remembering yesterday's porridge and the meager furnishings. "This 'kindergarten'?"
"Yep. We only opened this year. For two years I gathered students from all over the world, looked for those who still had a spark left in them. As you can see, there are still chances to fix everything."
"And why start only now?" I asked. "Where were you before?"
Alastia sighed heavily, and a shadow flitted across her eyes.
"After my grandmother's death... I wasn't in the mood, so to speak. I couldn't pull myself together for a long time."
"I see," I mumbled.
We reached a fork. Alastia looked at me with hope one more time:
"So, Zenhald? Still don't want to become a teacher? Think about it, you could speed up the process tenfold."
"Nope. Not at all. The maximum I'll agree to is sleeping during lessons and eating pies. Preferably whole ones, not slices."
"Are you going to keep wearing that rag?" Alastia nodded at my blindfold. "There's no point, nobody here believes in your blindness. You navigate around corners way too confidently for a cripple."
"Seriously?" I sighed. "And here I thought I was a genius actor."
I pulled off the blindfold and simply tossed it aside. Without it, the world became sharper, but somehow... uncomfortable. Too much light.
"Well, how do I look, Alastia? What's going on with the eyes?" I asked, looking right at her.
She peered intently into my face and smiled softly.
"One, as usual, is black," she whispered. "And the second is yellow. Like old gold."
"I see," I replied quietly.
We walked further down the corridor. Alastia started speaking more quietly:
"You're only here because of Aurora, right?"
"Well, essentially—yes. Without her, I'd be snoozing in a forest somewhere by now."
"The girl is strong," the Archmage noted. "Her talent is obvious immediately. It was you who taught her, wasn't it?"
"I don't know," I shrugged. "Probably learned everything herself. I was just... passing by."
Alastia merely chuckled, clearly not believing me.
"Alright, Zenhald. Let's go, I'll introduce you to an acquaintance. She's Mira's student, by the way."
I froze in place, nearly tripping over my own foot.
"What? Mira has a student? That old grumbler actually took someone under her wing?"
"Yes," Alastia nodded. "And Mira strongly requested that I introduce you two if I ever encountered you on my path."
I squinted suspiciously, looking at the Archmage.
"And how do you know Mira? Where could you have crossed paths?"
"Oh, you know... we crossed paths somehow," Alastia waved her hand vaguely, and respect flashed in her eyes. "An incredible person. Strong, wise... and she worried about you a lot."
We entered a spacious hall, and my eyes immediately started to swim. Hey, hey, what is this—the annual convention of grey hair enthusiasts?
The room was full of old men and women. Ten? Twelve? Did I forget how to count? My brains stubbornly refused to produce an exact number, slipping me some hazy images instead of numbers. One of the old men stood out—he was all in black, as if he was getting ready for his own funeral.
All gazes instantly crossed on us. More precisely, on me. They stared so intently, as if I were a rare insect under a microscope.
"Do I owe you money or something?" I couldn't stand this awkward silence. "I don't think I borrowed from anyone. At least, not in this century."
The elders were sitting in a circle on a huge rug. A place of honor had been left for Alastia, and I, without thinking twice, perched right next to her. I felt, to put it mildly, uncomfortable—the tension hanging in the air was so thick you could cut it with a knife.
Suddenly, Alastia started to slowly take off her glove. I noticed the old men's eyes widen. Someone twitched, someone opened their mouth, getting ready to shout: "Stop! What are you doing?!". To them, she was the great Archmage, a symbol of authority and power.
But Alastia didn't give a damn about their etiquette. Her warm palm touched the top of my head, and it became so quiet in the hall that you could hear dust motes hitting the sunlight. She began to tenderly stroke my hair, and then went ahead and laid my head on her lap.
Some wild, stunted movement began in the circle. Convulsive gasps were heard, someone started whispering in fright.
"So it's him..." someone's hoarse voice rang out from the shadows.
I closed my eyes, offering myself up to Alastia's palm. I'm seriously about to purr right now, screw decency. But through my drowsiness, I suddenly felt someone's gaze. It wasn't surprised or frightened. It was angry. Icy and piercing, like the tip of a sword.
Seriously, am I absolutely sure I don't owe any of them money? A sleepy thought flashed by. Apparently, someone in this room disliked me very much. Oh well. The main thing is that I'm being pet.
"Yes, it's him," Alastia confirmed, continuing to stroke my head. Her palm was hot, and I could feel with my skin how the air around us vibrated from the terror of the elders. They were expecting me to crumble into ash right now, but I only settled more comfortably in her lap.
"So the rumors didn't lie," someone's voice rang out from the circle. "He really does look like a teenager. And the eyes... they told the truth about them too."
"Do you remember me? Do you recognize me?" this voice was different. Monotonous, lecturing.
I cracked one eye open. Sitting opposite was an old man, wrapped in black from head to toe. Black hair, black eyes, face—nothing but wrinkles. I strained my memory, trying to push through the fog in my head. The face seemed familiar... or not?
"Nope," I admitted honestly. "I have no idea who you are."
"My name is Dis," he uttered without changing his intonation.
"Dis?" I froze for a second. "Dis... Dis?"
Something clicked in my brain, and I burst out.
"Pfft-ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha-ha!" I literally went into a fit of laughter, sat up abruptly, and started pointing my finger at him. "Is that really you?! Seriously?! The Lord of Pathos?! Ah-ha-ha-ha!"
The elders around us flinched. Dis didn't even twitch an eyebrow, but I couldn't stop.
"'The Lord'! Yeah, I remember you, surprisingly enough. How did you even end up looking like this?"
Beside me, Alastia smiled faintly. Dis merely sighed heavily:
"As you can see, time is not subject to me, Zenhald."
"Yeah," I wiped the tears from my laughter. "You're completely unrecognizable now. Where did the arrogant look go? Alright, never mind."
Alastia seized the initiative:
"And where is Elandr?"
"He's running late," someone from the circle answered. "I crossed paths with him, he said he had urgent matters to attend to. Promised to be here in a day or two."
"Good," the Archmage nodded. "Now down to business. How is your students' progress?"
Dis straightened up:
"My four blockheads are already at the intermediate level."
The remaining elders—there were exactly ten of them—confirmed the same. Each had four students under their wing. Forty intermediate-level mages... Not bad for this dilapidated world.
I tugged on Alastia's sleeve:
"What, you don't have your own students?"
"I have one," she replied, looking off into space. "But Mira asked me to look after you three."
"The three of us?" I bent a finger. "Me, Aurora... and who's the third?"
"That girl in the mask," Alastia also began to bend her fingers.
"A girl?" I frowned. "The one who keeps staring at me?"
"Well, almost a young woman. Never mind. You'll meet later, don't rush things."
I leaned back, looking at the ceiling. Three. Aurora, me, and some masked anonymous girl.
"Aw man, what am I even supposed to do here?" I grumbled. "I'm just wasting time. What is Aurora up to? I wonder..."
Sitting in a circle of old people, discussing and reminiscing about ancient nicknames was unbearably boring.
The silence was shattered by a crash—someone abruptly jumped up, knocking over their chair.
"Zenhald! So this is how it is, huh?!" the old man's voice trembled with barely contained fury. "I challenge you to a battle to the death. To a duel!"
I cracked my eyes open, slightly blown away by such a sudden escalation. We were just discussing students and pies, what does death have to do with it?
"Listen, grandpa," I scratched the back of my head, "let's be clear. Do I owe one of you money after all? How much? Name the sum, maybe we can work something out."
The old man stepped forward, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white.
"You killed my teacher!" he spat.
"And... when exactly?" I sincerely tried to dig through my memory, but, as usual, only the wind and fragments of old songs roamed there.
"He participated in the great war! He defended his land!"
"Well..." I shrugged. "He was in a war. People die in wars. It's kind of part of the rules of the game, don't you think? Forgivable, in my opinion."
The old man couldn't hold back. He lunged at me, grabbed the collar of my t-shirt, and literally yanked me into the air. His face was a couple of centimeters from mine—I could see every wrinkle, every drop of sweat.
"You... beast!" he hissed. "You don't even regret it! Do you have a conscience at all?! Even a drop?!"
I looked down at him, dangling my legs in the air.
"Conscience?" I cupped my hands around my mouth like a megaphone and shouted into the void of the hall: "Hey, Conscience! Come out, some grandpa here is calling for you!"
I shifted my gaze back to him.
"As you can see, empty. Emotions are too expensive a thing, old man. I can't afford them. Have you still not figured that out?"
With a cry of rage, he hurled me into the wall. I didn't resist—softening the blow, I smoothly slid down to the floor, immediately adopting a comfortable semi-reclining pose.
Dis quickly stepped behind the enraged old man and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Calm down," the "Lord of Pathos" uttered quietly.
The man jerked his shoulder sharply, throwing the hand off.
"And now what?! Are we supposed to forgive all his sins just because he's strong?!" the old man swept his gaze over the frozen council. "Look at him! He possessed such power... He could have stopped that war in a single day! He could have saved hundreds of thousands! But what did he do?! Roamed the battlefields and destroyed everything that got in his way! How can you respect him?! Are we really just going to let him go?!"
He turned back to me, and there were tears in his eyes.
"I won't forgive you for this. At least someone in this world has to stand against you."
I slowly stood up, dusting off my knees. Pictures of fires and screams surfaced in my head again, but they were so distant, as if I were watching someone else's movie.
"Alright, grandpa," I sighed. "If it'll make you feel better—bring it on. You can let off some steam on me. Not like there's much else to do today anyway."