My blood froze. I could feel Keeper Yorish's eyes spearing me in place and wondered if he would strike me down. Could I gather enough mana to mount a defense in time? His mana signature felt unchanged, but that meant nothing. If I could hide my spellcasting thanks to Wallace's looping technique, there was no reason someone of Yorish's skill could not do the same.

  The grim truth was there was no point. If Yorish decided to kill me, I would die. So, my only choice was to talk, hoping he would change his mind.

  I took a few breaths, forcing my heart rate back to a steady rhythm. Then, I raised my head and met his eyes.

  "What do you mean, Keeper Yorish?" I asked.

  Yorish raised an eyebrow, his smile still in place. "Young man, I'm no fool. Your progress is too rapid to be the product of anything less than constant practice. How many mages would do the same?"

  "Plenty," I countered, "Nearly all mages dream of becoming an Archmagus."

  "Hah!" Yorish laughed, "No, they don't. Most are content with a family and a life of status and wealth. Few would throw themselves into their training with such obsession. Fewer still would do so with your particular element."

  The way he said "obsession" struck me as judgemental. I suspected he saw my pursuit of greater power as something detrimental. But I also did not see the point in justifying my choices to the man.

  "If I want to reach my goals, I cannot settle for anything less than complete dedication," I replied with a shrug.

  "Hmm, well, regardless, I believe you're not being wholly honest with me," Yorish said, "Vayne."

  I might have reacted if I had not had time to prepare myself. Instead, I kept my face blank and faintly confused.

  "Apologies, honored Keeper, but—"

  "I already told you I'm not a fool, young man. Your element, skills, and age already painted enough of a picture to find your identity without much issue. I do not care that you lied so much as I care about why. Why hide your name? Why come here in disguise? And why train so hard to join when you should know you cannot succeed?"

  Once more, I debated the merits of fleeing, and once more, I pushed it down. Even if I escaped the man, I had no idea where to go.

  Keeper Yorish sighed. "I'm not lying. I intend to give you a boon. I wish you no harm. I want you to succeed. You show great promise, and I have no great desire to cut your life short. But the Everforge is my responsibility. I am its protector, and my duty is too great to risk it to someone I know almost nothing about."

  There was an invitation in his words and his face. Yorish's eyes might be searching, but his smile was warm and friendly, and his demeanor relaxed. He wanted to trust me...but should he? I was not here for any noble or selfless reasons. I wanted to expand my power and keep myself safe, and not much else.

  "Before I start," I said, "May I ask you for something?"

  Yorish's eyebrows rose, but he nodded after a moment.

  "Please judge my companion by his own merits. My choices and mistakes are my own, not his."

  Yorish frowned, and once more, he seemed to consider me. Something in his eyes flickered, an emotion I could not place. Finally, he nodded again.

  "I swear upon my soul that your friend shall come to no harm. I will speak with him myself, and should I judge his intent as genuine, he may remain a member of this Order."

  Magical oaths were dangerous. Magic responded to intent, and swearing such a promise drew a strange, unconscious response from your spirit. Your mana made it real, and breaking your oath carried genuine risks. At best, your core and channels would be strained for months as they slowly healed. At worst, you might never cast a spell again.

  I would have preferred he sworn to keep my secrets, but this was already better than I could have hoped. Hell, he had already promised more than I had any right to expect. It was a show of good faith that I could not help but return.

  "Yes, my real name is Vayne. Until a year ago, I was an apprentice at the Academy in Volaris and a servant in Duke Rufus Estton's household. You already know this, yes?"

  Yorish nodded. "You've earned a name for yourself. There are few enough sponsored apprentices, fewer in service to a duke, and fewer still with your element. An easy enough mystery to solve, given half a year to pry."

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  "Great," I remarked, sighing as I rubbed my eyes.

  "Did you expect otherwise?"

  "I hoped for it, but no," I shook my head, "Does it matter?"

  "I suppose not," Yorish granted, "May I ask why?"

  "Why did I leave?" I asked, tapping my fingers on the table, "Simple. I knew what my life would look like. Or at least, I thought I did. Then, during my Awakening, I saw what it truly was. I hated them both. The only way to change my path was to step off it, as it were."

  "Understandable enough, but why leave your lord's home?"

  "A few reasons, but foremost was practicality," I said, gesturing towards myself, "My element is considered too unorthodox for the Academy. I could waste years there trying to pick out what bits of wisdom might lie in its halls. Or, I could set out and find my own way."

  "Which brought you here," Yorish nodded, "I see."

  I almost agreed...but Yorish had sworn an oath. He had placed some measure of faith in me. Could I spit in his face, keeping such secrets that benefitted me to his detriment?

  "No, I shook my head. Yorish's face turned confused, and I continued, "The truth was we came here for protection as much as we did learning."

  "From your lord?" Yorish asked, "I've heard he was a traditionalist, but his reputation isn't one of cruelty. And you've done nothing to deserve reprisal. Embarrassing a few half-drunk nobles is hardly worth—"

  "Not from them," I interrupted. The Keeper fell silent, and I braced myself before launching into the rest of my story.

  I told Yorish of our time traveling south from Colkirk to Aranth. I spoke of my training as a healer, my studies, and my journey further south. And I spoke of the apparent plot I had stumbled onto, my flight, and my near-death at the hands of an assassin.

  As I told my tale, the Keeper's face changed. His expression grew unreadable, and his eyes piercing. He never asked questions, merely listening with his hands folded before him and his mana placid as a still lake.

  It took me almost fifteen minutes to tell the whole tale. I skimmed over some details, mostly pertaining to Fortunatus, but that did not save me much time. When I finished speaking, Yorish closed his eyes as if considering my words. His face remained inscrutable, and an uncomfortable silence stretched between us.

  Finally, he sighed.

  "Young man, you've made a dangerous enemy. This is not your fault. Your fate is cruel and unjust, and you have my sympathies."

  I almost relaxed, only for Yorish's eyes to snap open. They were sharp as a blade, and his gaze speared me in place.

  "However," Yorish continued, "You lied. You came here knowing you were being hunted, hoping to use this Order as a shield. I would be well within my rights to strike you down for such an action."

  I wanted to defend myself but could not find the words. Yorish was right. I had hoped they would protect me and had hidden the truth to pursue that goal. Not many groups could threaten the Forgetenders, but it was still possible.

  "I know," I finally said.

  "You have no defense?"

  "No," I said, shaking my head, "I have already told you what led me to do what I did. Whatever I say now would be an excuse to avoid responsibility for my actions."

  Yorish snorted. "You're not giving me much of a reason to spare your life, you know."

  "Believe me, I wish I could. But I cannot blame you if you decide to kill me."

  Yorish leaned forward, and I finally sensed his mana stir. It felt vast, dense, and deep as the ground beneath my feet. There was also a sense of heat, like a roiling furnace, and I wondered what might cause such a feeling. Would he cook me alive or open up the earth and allow it to swallow me whole?

  Then, he sighed, and the moment passed. His mana stilled, and he sat back in his chair, rubbing his face with one hand.

  "What am I to do with you?" he asked.

  "I...apologize, but I do not understand."

  "If I expel you and your friend, I am sentencing two innocents to an unjust fate. But if I allow you to remain, your presence might endanger others. Do I violate my principles or the oaths of my Order?"

  There was heat in his voice, and I almost mistook it for anger. But something in his eyes, a hint of pity, led me to the truth. He hated the position he was in—no, the one I had put him into and sought a way out.

  And I could see only one.

  "Allow me to leave of my own accord," I said. Yorish opened his mouth, but I pushed on, "I intended to do so if I failed today regardless, so it changes little. But please, let my friend remain here as a disciple."

  "You'll die," Yorish replied after a few seconds, "Do you understand that?"

  "You know who is after me," I said, not bothering to pose it as a question.

  "Yes. The Silent Ones. They are assassins favored by ambitious nobles seeking to bring low rivals or advance their standing amongst their families. Their particular specialty is killing mages."

  "I killed several of them already. What makes you so sure they will claim my life?" I asked. It sounded arrogant but had an edge of truth to it.

  "Your reputation is that of a skilled young man with unorthodox mage. They likely sent their lowest members after you. But your escape has elevated that threat. You now warrant a more direct hand from more seasoned members. They will try again once they learn of your location."

  I felt the looming specter hanging over me, the creeping dread that stole away my breath. Then, I thought of my failures and brushes with death, my frustrations, and my resolution. Less than a year ago, I had stood where I would have one day died in battle and sworn I would change my future.

  When faced with all of that, what were a few would-be assassins?

  "They can try," I said, raising my head to meet Yorish's eyes, "And they will fail."

  He blinked, then shook his head with a sad smile.

  "I hope you're right, young man. I truly do."

  Before I could say anything else, Yorish pushed himself back from the table and stood.

  "Stand up."

  "Why?" I asked, even as I followed his command.

  Yorish raised an eyebrow, "You asked to see the Everforge. Have you forgotten so quickly?"

  My mouth fell open, and I found myself unable to respond. Yorish laughed, and I forced my face back to neutrality.

  "You made a mistake, but what happened to you isn't your fault. If allowing you this boon might ensure an innocent man escapes an unjust fate, then it is a price well paid," Yorish said, smiling as he walked over to place a hand on my shoulder.

  I felt a lump in my throat and coughed, bowing my head to the man.

  "Thank you, honored Keeper."

  "Thank me by living," Yorish said, "And by doing better."

  There was nothing more to say, so I remained silent.

  Yorish pulled his hand away, cleared his throat, and continued, "Please take a few steps back. This will take me a moment or two."

  I did as he commanded, and the older man closed his eyes again. I felt his mana shift and pulse, but precisely what he was doing was impossible to say...at first.

  Then, I felt it. The ground rumbled and shook so softly that I almost missed it. These tremors soon grew stronger, and I realized that a portion of the floor at the center of the room was shifting.

  Slowly, a cylindrical section slid out with the sound of stone grinding on stone. As it did so, I realized it was hollow, with what looked to be a staircase leading down.

  This pillar rose to a height taller than I stood before stopping with a near-silent clunk. For a moment, the room was quiet. Then, Yorish walked forward, waving a hand and conjuring a sphere of citrine mana in his palm.

  "Follow me," Yorish said, "And do not fall behind."

  Then, without another word, the Keeper began descending the stairs. I hesitated for a heartbeat, maybe two, and then I followed him into the darkness.

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