Day at the compound started for Gorren far earlier than dawn. The old mage needed little sleep and desired it even less: dreams were no friends of his.

As the first lights colored the sky over the island pink, he emerged from the shadows of his laboratory, leaving his works behind. The corridors he walked were already filling with sounds, his ever-growing servants starting their day just then.

Gorren walked quickly, barely acknowledging the greetings of his Gremlins.

His path brought him beyond impressive defenses that would have been fitting for a royal treasury: unblinking golems by the dozens, traps and warded gates. Beyond all of it, he reached a lonely door, flanked by two statues but unassuming apart from that.

He stopped in front of it, gazing at the warded wood. His heart trembled with slight emotion.

Exerting his almost supernaturally disciplined mind, he grabbed hold of all the feelings and motives pushing him forward: his hatred, his sorrow, his rage, his thirst; he grabbed all of them and pushed them into a corner of his mind, away from the here and now, back in the abyss of his conscience.

It was an oath of his: the darkness haunting him would not contaminate what rested beyond that door.

It wasn’t just for selfless reasons. In a sense, that ritual was the closest to a form of peace he ever managed to reach.

Silently pushing the door open, he snuck inside.

The room that he had chosen for his children to pass their convalescence hadn’t changed one bit. The same humble fireplace, the same broken tiles, the same cozy atmosphere. It was dark, the furniture only vague shapes in the gloom.

In any other situation, Gorren would rage at seeing it, to the point of ripping everything to pieces, but the state of mind in which he had forced himself now made him feel only sorrow as he watched the room where Timothy had grown.

Walking on his toes, Gorren made his way toward the beds.

One was empty, he saw, but, as he watched the other, he smiled.

Scarlet and Argus nestled together amidst the sheet, sleeping blissfully just as only children could. The girl’s little fists were sunk into his brother’s fur, grabbing fistfuls of it. Even as she slept, Scarlet looked ready to fight. On the other side, Argus held her with an awkwardness that slumber had melted into affection. They didn't like to sleep alone, neither of them.

Slowly, careful not to make a sound, Gorren sat on the other bed.

For long moments, he watched his two sleeping children, his heart beating with gentle sorrow.

He drew in a shuddering breath.

“Wake up.”

It was always a small marvel for him to watch them wake up.

Scarlet opened an eye, the vivid color of it sparkling in the gloom like a small ruby, then closed it and snuggled deeper inside the fur. Argus mumbled.

“Wake up.”

The eye opened again, followed by the other. Scarlet raised to a sit, looked around with a bleary frown, stared at Gorren like he was a deep philosophical question, and then fell back down. Argus’ ears twitched.

“Wake up.”

That always did the trick.

Scarlet’s eyes snapped open, and an excited smile blossomed over her face.

“Father!”

Wild-haired, bleary-eyed, half-asleep, she still had her arms around his neck in no time.

Gorren hesitated, breath hitching in his throat. He relaxed, smiling softly, and patted her back.

“Good morning, child…”

He turned to Argus. The poor were-rat had been startled awake. He stared, bleary and frazzled, blinking owlishly.

“Good morning, brother!”

Scarlet half-jumped and half-flew back to him, hugging him fiercely. Argus looked at his father in startled confusion, overwhelmed by his sister’s first-morning enthusiasm. Still, a confused affection lit his eyes, a feeling that Gorren thought was the same beating in his chest.

A soft, gentle light.

“Good morning, children.”

Once awake, the two followed their father in the small bathroom, Argus far too dizzy to keep up with Scarlet’s exuberance.

The children washed and brushed, or at least Argus did. Scarlet was too busy chirping excitedly about a dream she had to do more than splash the water all around and play with her brush instead of actually using it.

Gorren didn’t mind. Smiling softly, he took care of his daughter, brushing her long hair and cleaning her face while listening to her rambling.

Scarlet loved to talk, and soon her tale turned more and more outlandish as she added detail after detail to her dream, her happy voice filling the room like a birdsong.

Argus did his morning routine quietly and methodically. He only mumbled shyly from time to time, if called by his sister or weakly saying that she should be more respectful in their father’s presence.

All for nothing. Scarlet was unstoppable.

“Father! Father! And then there was that thing you told us about! Argus, what was its name?”

“A cat?”

“That! It was all fluffy!”

“Oh? Fluffier than Argus?”

“No no no! Not fluffier than Argus! Nobody is fluffier than Argus!”

“S-sister, the water. You’re gonna s-splash it all over!”

Washing done, they returned to the room, where Gorren had them go through a series of light calisthenics, just to stretch the limbs in preparation for the day.

The duo was growing well, Gorren observed with deep satisfaction. Scarlet was a fountain of energy as she moved from one exercise to the other, her body bending as easily as a reed. Argus lacked her limberness and had to grunt and strain to reach the correct postures but he never complain and always tried his best.

After the exercises, Gorren prepared breakfast: toasts topped with strawberries and slices of cheddar, porridge with sliced pears, pancakes topped with blueberries and bacon, plenty of milk, water and fruit juice.

“Always take care of your body,” Gorren said as he worked at the fireplace.

“Why is that, father?” While Argus just nodded and memorized, Scarlet was always with a question on her lips.

“You have only one,” Gorren replied, glancing over his shoulder. “And if you take care of it, it will make you feel better. You’ll even think better. Mind and body are very close.”

His children had enough appetite to out-match a family of ten. They scarfed down everything and asked for more, with enthusiasm Scarlet, with timidity Argus.

“Now do tell,” he said as they ate. He partook a little, just to make them feel at ease: he didn’t need it. “Repeat the Six Prime Elements.”

“Ugh, but father!” Scarlet whined, cheeks full. “We’re eating!”

“No, you’re not.” Gorren’s forehead creased. “You spitting all over. Don't’ talk when you eat.”

“Ugh! But father!”

“Don’t you talk back to me, young lady. Tell me about the Prime Elements, their primary domain, their main places of aggregation and main manifestations.”

Scarlet scowled something fierce but didn’t talk back.

After swallowing, she started, probably as a little revenge, from the element closest to her: “The Primary Domains the Element of Fire is connected most closely to are Passion, Energy, Transformation, Destruction; the main sub-domains are Warmth, Rage, Freedom. It’s strengthened by Air and is connected to Light. Earth smothers it, Water quenches it; it repels Darkness. On the surface, the Element of Fire primarily aggregates in volcanic regions, while it’s ever-present underground. Its main manifestation is as flames of various colors. The Element of Water…”

Scarlet listed all the Six Elements, boredom and annoyance forgotten as she struggled to remember every word and what was a chore turned into a challenge.

“Good good,” Gorren grumbled when she was finished. “Now repeat the multiplication tables to me.”

“Noooooo!”

“Hush. That’s what you get for talking back. Begin, from the two.”

Argus kept the nose in his porridge, not daring to interject.

Once breakfast was done, Gorren cleared the table and then made the dishes, making the duo help him. A small assembly line was put in place: Gorren washed the dishes in a large bucket with soap, water and a soft brush, then passed them to Scarlet, that wiped them dry with a cloth and then passed to Argus, that put them back in the shelf with a solemn wariness.

The day earlier a plate ended up in pieces on the floor so this time he held a steadier eye than the usual over his ever-excited daughter. Hiding a smile, Scarlet behaved as much as she could, limiting her eagerness at blowing bubbles over Argus’ fur.

Once the last plate was cleaned and put back in its place, the duo stood up to receive a few last recommendations from their father and then they scampered away.

No somber corridors or grim laboratory for the two, they didn‘t even know that the rest of the compound existed. Through a side door, the two children went into a small wing that Gorren had built only for them, full of small classrooms and playrooms and workshops, every object custom-built for kids. Old, kindly Reng and a fistful of other Gremlins that the old mage had reared only for that waited for them. They were their teachers, little smiling men in colorful little rooms, ready to give them lessons that Gorren had prepared and scheduled scrupulously and that they had studied with something bordering on fanaticism.

Gorren was deeply frustrated about the arrangement: the education of his children was something he wished to be the only one to impart. But he lacked the time to do anything more than giving them a few lessons about magic. Thankfully, they were kids, and so the topics were elementary enough that even quickly reared teachers could teach them.

He still didn’t like it though.

Out of spite, he put extra attention in scheduling what topics they were to study and in what order, an iron schedule organized to the last little detail: a bit of history, a bit of literature, much mythology, basics in arithmetic, calligraphy, geography, social etiquette and a lot of time passed in a warehouse he had set up and stocked only for that purpose, with a series of games involving many types of materials and ingredients and that made them familiarize themselves with the many things a mage had to work with. Also, a beginner instruction to manual labor: woodworking, ropemaking, toolmaking, cloth working, alchemy disguised as games and many more. From time to time, he even had his servants bring them into the woods of the island, where, escorted by a hidden army of golems both aerial and terrestrial, they could play at their heart’s content and at the same time learn about the land and its many wonders.

It was a demanding schedule for a kid but the duo didn’t know any alternative and so didn’t mind. It was for their own good, Gorren reasoned. His children would be ready to face life when the time came, not grow as sheltered little slobs.

It was a choice that took some effort for him to make but still he made it. He had enough experience as an instructor of young mages after all, didn’t he?

After a dense morning, the two ate lunch, all the food decided and handed out by Gorren on a week-based schedule, and then returned to their games/work.

Halfway through the afternoon signaled the end of the day for the children. Some rest and a good snack, - it was impressive how much they managed to scarf down, especially Argus -, and the duo was usually left at their own devices for the rest of the day. If that happened, Scarlet was up and running in no time, flying in the sky above the island like a happy little bird. Always on the other side of the spectrum, Argus liked instead to sit on the grass with a small pile of books at his side and dig in, standing there like he was a waiting sapling.

He never went far: the places he sat on were always well in sight of his sister’s daring acrobatics.

That was the usual but not that day. That day was one of those when Gorren’s work was simple and light enough that he could have his children with him for some time.

In a workshop set up just for those occasions, he worked at the forge or at the worktable, building or assembling simpler components that he needed for his work. While he worked, his children watched. Scarlet always liked to roam the workshop, enthusiastically poking her nose everywhere, while Argus observed every gesture his father did with undivided attention. Gorren replied to their questions without looking up from his work, be it about the name of a tool or what exactly what he was doing. He even had them help him, working at the bellows, holding a vice shut tight, or helping him pull out a stubborn sheet of metal.

From time to time, without interrupting what he was doing, he spoke, giving them a lesson.

“Always do the best work you can,” he said, while hammering on a red-hot block of metal.

Besides his brother, Scarlet blinked. “Why is that, father?”

Holding the metal with a pair of long tongs, he pushed it into a trough full of water. A column of steam arose, just to be dispersed by an enchantment set into the walls.

“See this?” He said, jerking his head at the rapidly cooling metal. “This is going to become an inner piece of a golem. If i make it crooked, the golem will walk crookedly.”

“But nobody would tell you anything about it,” Scarlet pointed out.

“Maybe, but i would know that it’s my fault that that golem walks like that and i’d feel ashamed for it.”

And again.

“Every life is special,” Gorren said, working to mold two pieces of wood so that they fit together. “Take pride in what you are and who you are, but never become arrogant. Arrogant people are stupid people.”

“Why is that, father?”

Gorren handed Scarlet a pair pliers and had her try to bend one of the woodblock. The wood, hardened by magic, didn‘t budge one bit despite the child‘s best efforts. “An arrogant person would think that he can bend this piece with his bare hands.”

“What? That’s stupid!”

“That it is.”

And so it went. With his lessons, Gorren tried to instill in his children those senses of hard work, humbleness, sobriety, courtesy, patience and pride in one’s self and work that he felt was the best he could give them.

Once his light work was over, they had dinner. Goren prepared it personally, sitting by the fire to stir the pot or to flip the steak sizzling on the cast iron pot. The food was much more hearty than lunch, a good topping to the day’s activities.

Gorren had his children help, instructing them to chop onions and carrots, feed the fire or dump seasonings. No laziness in his house.

As he cooked, he listened patiently at Scarlet’s chirping and Argus’ shy mumbling about what they had done during the day. As they prepared the table, sat down and ate, he never stopped lending his ears to his children.

Hearty or not, the duo shoveled down everything in no time, their mouths too occupied with the food to keep talking. Once every plate was emptied, he cleared the table, made the dishes and then went to a big swinging chair that throned before the fireplace like a lazy king. There he sat, lit up his pipe and, as his children gathered at his feet, made himself ready for real listening, giving them their undivided attention.

Scarlet and Argus told him what they had learned during the day, the boy bringing him toys and drawings he had made, the girl speaking excitedly of a daring escapade into the sky, of a squirrel she had seen bounding across the foliage, of an exciting new discovery.

With endless patience, he listened to all, resting his eyes as he slowly rocked back and forth, his heart softly rejoicing while a small smile softened his grim features.

“What about your dreams, Argus?” He asked. “Are they getting better?”

The boy held down his head. “N-not much, father.”

Gorren hummed. His son’s dreams weren’t good. He couldn’t remember what they were about by the time he woke up but still, they unsettled him.

“Here,” he said, opening his eyes. He gestured and pen and paper flew into his hand. “I’ll make you a drawing to keep the nightmares away.”

Argus lit up like a firefly.

“Whaaaaat?” Scarlet jumped up, cheeks puffed out. “I want a drawing too!”

Argus looked confused for a moment, then mortified. He didn’t want to hoard a drawing only for himself! He helplessly looked at his father.

“Fine fine!” Gorren chuckled. “A drawing each.”

“Yeeeeee!”

They passed the rest of the evening together like they always did. Gorren sat on his chair, reading and reviewing documents. Tired from the day, his children sat on the floor, drawing, reading or playing with simple toys he made for them himself. Even the ever-energetic Scarlet was drained enough that it was a pleasure for her to sprawl over a blanket, legs kicking idly and a lazy smile on her face as she listened to Argus tentatively reading from a book. Eyes squinting, the boy read slowly and carefully, his quiet voice filling the air with stories of knights and princesses and dragons.

When he was tired, the duo gathered at the feet of their father, that put aside his documents.

That was a time they both deeply enjoyed.

“What story you’re gonna tell us tonight, father?”

Gorren hummed, drumming his long fingers over his knees.

“I’ll tell you the story of the old badger and the flowers,” he said eventually.

The children exchanged a look: that was a new one.

Gorren leaned forward, putting his elbows over his thighs. There was something special in the air he took when he was about to tell a story: his eyes lit with an expressive light, his voice took a deeper, almost soft tone, ushering them with an irresistible pull into a world of magic and fantastical figures.

As the two children perked up their ears, Gorren began.

“There once was a badger, living in a hole between the rocks. He was old and cranky and didn’t like to have company. When people came by, he would hide inside his den, snarling and growling and throwing branches and seeds until they got away. He only got out when he needed to grab food and even then he never saluted the people he met. He just was this grumpy.

From time to time, the rain brought earth inside the badger’s den. The old badger would gather it all inside a big basket and, grumbling all the way, carry it outside to dump the dirt between the rocks.

With time, a lot of earth accumulated in the cracks between the rocks and, as the badger scared off visitors, some of the seeds he threw ended up into it.

The rain came and then the sun and then the rain again; and, lo!, as the sun rose one day, small saplings had sprouted amidst the rocks.

The badger was annoyed at first. He liked his house, - it was one of the very few things he liked -, and wanted it to remain as it was. Still, the saplings were small and weren’t hurting anybody. So he decided to just ignore them.

Time passed, with the badger being busy. One day, when he was finally able to rest a little bit, he looked over his house and noticed that the saplings had become flowers and that new saplings were growing.

That was enough, he decided. He didn’t want his house to become covered by shrubs!

So he grabbed a spade and a pot, dug out all the flowers and re-planted them in the meadow in front of his house. He kept only one in the pot because he liked its colors.

Time passed, and the old badger kept living in his house. During the evenings, he sat by the door, the small flower in the pot beside him, and looked down on the meadow. There were many flowers now, all of the most beautiful colors, swaying gently in the breeze.

With time, the badger came to like them. He would water them and keep them free of weeds so that they could thrive. Still, the best cares he would reserve for his flower in the pot. He got angry at it from time to time because it wouldn’t grow the way he wanted, but those moments always passed and he would find himself pleased by how it had grown.

The badger thought that his flowers would remain with him forever.

But then, winter came.

Snow fell heavy, the wind whipped up angrily and all warmth was chased away by the bitter cold. The badger tried to save his flowers but couldn’t. They all withered, even the one in the pot.

The badger was left all alone. He even lost his house, buried under the snow.

Sad, he gathered what he could and set off, searching for a new home. What else could he do?

But a surprise awaited him.

As he walked away into the forest, his foot met with something buried in the snow. Curious, he dug and found a small pinecone, with still some seeds inside.

The badger put it inside his satchel. He had small hope now. Maybe, just maybe, when he found a new home, he could plant the seeds. He wouldn’t have flowers, he would have trees, but maybe that was good enough.

And so he went, searching for a new home and new meadow to plant the seeds in. The winter harried him but he kept his satchel close to his heart and warmed it with his breath.

People say that he’s still searching. Who knows if he will succeed?”

“Wait, that’s how it ends?” Scarlet protested as the old man fell silent.

Gorren threw her a glance that was a mix of slyness and amusement. “Not all stories end as you want.”

“But… But…!” Scarlet watched at her brother, like if she was searching for help. Argus’s expression was just as helpless.

“No buts,” Gorren said. “Time to go to bed now.”

Both the children jumped, realization hitting. It was that time already?

“Awww!”

The two didn’t protest further. After brushing and washing in the bathroom, they filed at their beds.

“Father?” Argus asked as Gorren was tucking him in.

“Yes?”

“Will the badger find a new home?” There was a tentative, shy hope in the boy’s voice.

A flash of mixed emotions passed through Gorren’s gaze. “That is still to see.”

Argus nodded and closed his eyes.

Gorren kept them company until they fell asleep, singing them a lullaby with his deep, gravellike voice. It didn’t take long. Tired from the day, Scarlet and Argus were on their way to the land of dreams soon enough.

Gorren paused by their side for a moment still, watching the sleeping forms of his tiny little seeds.

Then, silent as a shadow, he left that cozy room. Outside, deeper shadows waited for him, both inside of his mind and outside. What he sealed away so that his children weren’t contaminated by it re-emerged from the abyss of his conscience and he was once again the Sorcerer, the Grey Goblin, the Last Mage: the tool of vengeance and violence.

He embraced it, for that was his destiny.

Alone, he disappeared into the dark.