Whereas Behyru’s air had the harsh smell of iron and smoke, the air on Yve, the Asrai home world, had the fresh scent of blossoming flowers and running water.

Jocelyn clung onto the bonsai and breathed in the refreshing, cool air.

Behind her, the giant Ysomara rested on grass as blue as the sky. The creature’s gentle snoring emitted soft vibrations against the ground.

The kite Gerhmaine held in his hands was shaped like a phoenix, with long golden wings and red streamers for a tail resembling dancing flames. Jocelyn always found the mythology surrounding the bird fascinating.

“Here,” Gerhmaine said as he offered the handle of the kite to Jocelyn. “You can steer. In the meantime, I’ll hold onto the tree.”

Jocelyn hesitated. “If this tree dies, then so do I,” she said. “Asmodella tied the life of this bonsai with my own.”

“It’s sharing the poison with you, isn’t it?” Gerhmaine said.

Jocelyn nodded.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be careful with the tree.”

“You’re a complete stranger to me. How can I trust you?”

“That is your prerogative,” he said. “Just so you know though, if I wanted to kill you—which I don’t—I could do it a thousand different ways aside from killing your bonsai.”

If that was his attempt to instill confidence into Jocelyn, it wasn’t working.

“Look, just fly the kite. I know you want to cling onto relics from your old world. To make you feel welcome, I’m giving you the opportunity to fly the Phoenix.”

“It is a nice kite and Phoenixes are pretty cool with their entire rising from the ashes thing,” Jocelyn noted.

Gerhmaine laughed. “You haven’t met too many Phoenixes then, have you?”

Jocelyn shook her head.

“The only thing they’re good for is a hot meal,” Gerhmaine said. “After you kill one, you just pull on the back three feathers, and the entire thing cooks itself.”

Jocelyn was appalled. “You’re joking, right?”

Gerhmaine shook his head. “Nope. Phoenixes are delicious. It’s a bit greasy but when you marinate a phoenix in kyma leaves and portasin pudding, it’s an epiphany on your tongue.”

“So the entire ‘rising from the ashes’ thing is a lie?”

Gerhmaine laughed as he patted his belly underneath his dark robe. “My belly can attest, there is no rising after I’m through with a cooked phoenix.” Without even asking, he snatched the bonsai out of Jocelyn’s arms with one hand and gave her the kite handle with the other. “Now, fly.”

Jocelyn didn’t protest.

“Do you know how to get it going?” he asked.

“I remember vaguely. Run with it, let it catch wind, and then hold on for dear life. Am I correct?”

He shrugged. “More or less. Let me help you with the catching wind part.”

He let out a high-pitched whistle and suddenly, a gust of wind caught the kite and lifted it high into the air.

Jocelyn quickly unraveled the spool of string coiled around the handle, giving the kite some slack. The kite, like a real Phoenix, flew upwards and stretched out its wings and rode the wind. She was amazed at how nimbly it moved as it danced against the backdrop of a cloudless, blue sky.

“Was that magic?” Jocelyn asked.

Gerhmaine laughed. “I guess you can call it that,” he said. “The wind owes me from time to time.”

“You can command the wind?”

He shook his head. “One doesn’t command the wind,” Gerhmaine stated. “One understands it and tries negotiating with it. One knows that for every transaction made, there is a cost further down the road.”

“So what’s the price to pay when you summon the wind?” Jocelyn enquired. The tension from the kite pulled at her hands. She found it was a pleasant feeling.

“Well, that’s a question you have to figure out now, don’t you?”

“I have a lot of questions,” Jocelyn began.

“I’ll answer only one. Make it good.”

Jocelyn thought long and hard about what to ask. Finally, she came up with one.

“How do I find the Ruined God?”

Gerhmaine rubbed his chin. “Truthfully, I don’t know. It’s been generations since anyone last spoke to Ruin. In fact, anyone of sane mind wouldn’t even make the attempt to contact him.”

Jocelyn sighed. “So your official answer is?”

“I don’t know.”

“Great. I just wasted my one question.”

“Now hold on there,” Gerhmaine said. “I keep my word. I promised to answer one of your questions and I’ll hold myself accountable to it. A teacher has that obligation to his students.”

Jocelyn reeled in the kite a little. “And what makes you think I want you as my teacher?”

Gerhmaine laughed. “You’re kidding right? I’m giving you the opportunity to learn magic and unlock the greatest secrets long forgotten to the Universe.”

“I don’t want to learn magic if it means using it to hurt others. The last thing I want is to further this stupid war.”

“War is inevitable,” Gerhmaine said. “It’s the natural order of the Universe. At the end of the day, you’ll need to choose a side. We, the Asrai, have learned this recently.”

“I’d rather have the poison take me over having to fight as anyone’s soldier,” Jocelyn said.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

Gerhmaine seemed impressed. “You think like I do. Magic, in my humble opinion, should not be used as weapons. Magic should in fact serve a higher purpose in this Universe.”

“And what purpose is that?”

“Magic serves the Universe.”

“Huh?”

Gerhmaine cradled the bonsai tree with one arm and pointed a finger at Jocelyn. “You still have much to learn.”

“Only because you speak in riddles.”

“Learn from me and serve the Universe instead of this stupid war.”

“What does your master, the Silent King think?”

Gerhmaine exhaled, as if venting out his frustrations. “I’ve failed him as an advisor. He is committed to this war.”

“And what does Asmodella think of how the Silent King is using magic?”

Gerhmaine was careful in formulating his response. “Jocelyn, what do you think the main cause for most wars is?”

“Money? Power?”

“Religion.”

The string of the kite suddenly snapped, sending the Phoenix spinning out of control. The wind clung to it for a while, twisting and turning it like a jilted lover, before finally releasing its grip. The kite plummeted to the ground, like it was shot out of the air.

“Are you saying Asmodella supports this war?” Jocelyn asked, walking over to the kite.

“I’m not saying anything.” Gerhmaine was choosing his words wisely. “All I’m saying is that most wars are started because of religion. You can make whatever assumptions you wish.”

Jocelyn stared at Gerhmaine’s wrinkled face for a moment. There was a conflicting quality about him, both a ying and yang to his personality.

It was apparent from the way he spoke about the Silent King and Asmodella that he loved them both, yet he disagreed with their ideologies.

Jocelyn debated whether she could trust this man. He seemed kind enough, but Jocelyn learned over the years that, sometimes, kindness was a mask for cruelty.

“What’s in it for you if I become your pupil?” she asked.

Gerhmaine shrugged. “Satisfaction of doing my part in serving the Universe? Because Asmodella told me to? You remind me of a stubborn niece of mine? Take your pick.”

“No, tell me the truth. There’s something more, I can tell.”

He handed the bonsai tree back to her. “The truth?” He asked.

“Yes, I expect nothing less. Always,” Jocelyn said.

“Well, I suppose there’s no harm in telling you, though if you let anyone else know, I’ll feed you to my wolves.”

“Wolves?”

“You’ll meet them later.”

“Great.”

“The truth,” Gerhmaine began as he scratched his chin through his beard, “The truth is you have the potential to be better than any one of Octava’s pupils, or mine.”

“You actually believe this?”

“Don’t you?”

Jocelyn shook her head. “I don’t know the first thing about magic. I think you’re overestimating my abilities.”

“Back on Behyru, you were able to display magic without any training. There was no awakening from Asmodella either. Usually, one cannot use magic without being enabled by the vessel.”

“It was probably a fluke.”

Gerhmaine’s laugh sounded maniacal.

“Why is that funny?”

“Finding a silver coin on the ground is a fluke. Being sneezed on by an Ysomara is an unpleasant fluke. Running into an old lover while she’s on a date with a new lover is a painful fluke.”

Jocelyn noted a hint of bitterness in his voice over his last example.

“Magic,” Gerhmaine continued, “Is never a fluke.”

Gerhmaine walked over to where the kite had landed and inspected the broken string. He frowned. “A sign,” he muttered.

“So you think I have the potential to be top of the class, thus showing off how great you are as a teacher?’

“Yes, and in doing so, I can rub dirt all over Octava’s perfect little nose.”

“That sounds like an awfully childish reason.”

“You wanted the truth, well there it is,” Gerhmaine said. “I may be wise, but I’m also a bitter old man.”

Jocelyn bent down and picked up the detached handle of the kite and handed it to him. “And you’ll keep your promise of finding me a cure for my poison?”

Gerhmaine nodded. “On my honor as an Asrai.”

“I don’t know how much that’s worth.”

“It’s worth plenty, trust me.”

Jocelyn thought about it for a moment. It seemed like an acceptable deal.

“Okay.”

Gerhmaine clapped his hands together. “Great!”

“So do I get to ask my one question now?”

Gerhmaine shot her a funny look. “You’re joking, right? In the entire span of our conversation, I must have answered at least ten questions from you.”

“They don’t count.”

Gerhmaine sighed. “Appreciate generosity and don’t push your luck. Now, once we get back to the house, I’ll introduce you to my other students.”

“Anything I need to know about them beforehand?”

“That’s yet another question,” Gerhmaine said. “But a relevant one I suppose. I will answer. My students have the power to rip your spine from your flesh if they decide they don’t like you.”

The look of surprise on Jocelyn’s face must have been as transparent as polished glass.

“I’m just kidding,” Gerhmaine said. “They can’t rip spines out… yet. Your kidney maybe.”

He sounded serious this time.