The first snow of the season settled white and quiet onto a near perfect flat mountaintop on a gray dusk. It was a wet snow with large, heavy flakes that piled up as dutifully as soldiers lining up for a parade. The mountaintop was bare except for a few ragged shrubs already coated in white and a solitary man standing at its edge. He was an elderly small man but he stood with an air of serene self-assuredness. The sifting flakes settled on his shoulders which he ignored. Deep in contemplation, he gazed at the distant buildings far below. Night has not fully fallen and he could see that the bustling beehive of activity below has not stopped. He was sincerely grateful that the climb to the apex was arduous and long which dissuaded many from trying. He came here to think.

A snowy day like this which only happens once every decade or so here was an easy avenue to a nostalgic moment when he first came to this valley freshly scarred from the ravages of the Rift War. They had discovered this by accident and on that day it was snowing as well. The last battle of the Rift War has concluded a week before and with that, the news of his family's demise at the hands of Thuro, the god who was supposed to be on their side. Apparently, the god was angry that he has lost that particular war and chose to destroy his own followers rather than let them surrender. This final act hammered his insight into the futility of following the gods for they were capricious creatures prone to fits of madness with behavior indifferent to the fate of mortals.

He and other survivors have worked hard to create something which would prove to be worth more than any temple or kingdom. The academy was the fruition of their efforts and these years have provided the healing in the second half of his life. Beyond these mountains were countless mortals where the deities were still worshipped in absolute awe. He was one of them once and though he could understand the allure of blind faith, he was also filled with distaste at their refusal to change. After the devastating wars of the last two centuries, he would have thought there would be more people willing to open their eyes. Perhaps he was naively optimistic. Most people were familiar with blind faith in the gods and not at all willing to even try to have a modicum of faith in themselves.

When he first discovered the so-called "Book of Truth", he realized that all the holy books were simply lies derived from the biggest book of lies. Why would the supreme God appoint a pantheon of selfish indifferent deities to be the mortal's guides? The gods clearly cared more about their internal rivalries and maintaining the mortal societies at their status quo. Also, as the development at the academy has shown in the last few decades, whereas gods were limited in their respective capabilities, mortals were not. Spells have been fashioned and perfected here which he has seen no god ever use. As far as why the spells worked the way they did, these questions were harder to answer but he was sure the academicians would find the answers to those as well.

A soft crunch of boots on dry snow interrupted his thoughts. He sighed. The conclusion of quite solitude came far too soon.

"Glad to see that they sent you to fetch me, Aurian," the man said and continued looking out.

The footsteps drew closer until he knew that Aurian was right behind him. He did not yet want to turn around.

"Master Arbon, the other masters are concerned for your health and would like you to come down," Aurian said. "They say that at your age you should not be climbing up here by yourself subjected to the elements and the terrain."

"You and I both know that they are just a pile of crock," Arbon stated with slight annoyance as he continued staring into the distance. The whirling dance of snow was growing thicker and he could barely see the buildings below.

Aurian giggled and Arbon smiled. He liked to hear her laugh. She was also beautiful and kind. Perhaps most importantly, unlike the rest of the sycophants, she consistently chose to be herself and not cater to anyone -- even him. If he was two decades younger, he would have ardently pursued her romantically, but alas he felt old. Just ripe over three quarters of a century, he preferred to treat her as the daughter that he never had.

"Master Arbon, I'm sure you're in fine health. I volunteered to be dispatched as a messenger since I wanted to inform you that they're preparing to roast the wild boar right now. If we hurry, we can still have our share," Aurian replied grinning.

"My stomach seems to concur. Very well, let's go," Arbon said and finally turned around to face her.

Aurian's usual unruly swirl of red hair was now layered by the white dust of snow with varying thicknesses. She looked like she was wearing a white frumpy uneven hat. Arbon drew close and flicked off a particularly heavy pile attached to one of the swirls.

"What happened to your cloak?" Arbon asked with concern.

"Master Arbon, it's still here," Aurian replied and took out the crumpled cloak from her pocket. She continued, "It's so rare to see snow here that I just wanted to feel it for myself."

"Indeed, Aurian. It is rare but I would like you to wear it nonetheless. Night is falling and the snow is falling thicker," Arbon said.

Aurian nodded and unwrapped the cloak. After Arbon ensured that she has covered her body and head, they set off down the tree-covered slope. Sunlight has disappeared beyond the horizon and there was only a faint glow from the lingering dusk. Though steep, the trail was well-trodden and finding their way downwards was not nearly as arduous as the journey up. While walking, Arbon inquired Aurian on her studies and reciprocated in answering her questions as best as he could.

"How long have you been here at the academy, Master Arbon?" Aurian suddenly broke her stream of scholarly inquiries and asked.

"Aurian, do I really look that old?" Arbon took mock offense.

"No, Master Arbon. I just overheard that you were here since the rift but I am not sure what the 'rift' means."

"The history of our academy is rarely disclosed to students and rarely mentioned among the masters. There is a reason for that and when the time comes for you to be a master, you will know the whole truth."

Aurian looked disappointed at being not offered an answer but she reluctantly nodded in understanding. Arbon changed the topic, "I understand you learned how to make a light ball last week. Can you make one now?"

Darkness has fallen as they trudged along. With no lights up this mountain, it was now almost pitch black. The change of topic clearly worked since Aurian appeared excited. She stopped walking and focused on the space between her hands. Slowly after a minute of intense concentration, there was some crackling and then a glowing ball of light appeared between her hands. Aurian's face was damp with sweat and she looked tired. It floated above her head and lingered there for a few seconds. Then, it crackled and fizzed out. Aurian looked crestfallen when she saw this.

"Don't worry! After a few more months of practice, you'll be a natural," Arbon nodded with approval. "Let me demonstrate."

With those three words said, Arbon effortlessly created a light ball within seconds. The white light radiated and floated in front of them.

"Master Arbon, how do you make this look so effortless? I have always thought that you were blessed by the gods."

"And if you believe that, you would be wrong. What is the one thing that we stress here at the academy?"

"Do not depend on the blessings of the irrational gods but rather on the blessings of our rational minds," they said the words together.