He wandered the empty streets hunting for Zolta, dim moonlight his only guide. He pressed down a nagging feeling that he would once again fail to find the Half-elf. He studied the ground looking for tracks like his uncle had taught him to no avail. At that moment he decided he hated cities he could use none of his skills. Frustration filled his chest, for years he had felt a burden to those around him he wanted to prove himself worthy of his master’s tutorship, and if Saybien was Hark’s friend surely he was also a man of power. Someone who could give Payten the strength he needed to stand above all those who doubted him.

He turned his focus inward, his master had once told him that magic would help those who use it. He explored his source, the inferno of mana that raged inside of him. He knew not what he searched for, yet it felt right to the point where he had no doubt in his mind that it would work. He felt indomitable as he let the mana burn through his body, his fingertips tingled as he searched the streams of mana searching for something. Time seemed to slow as he searched his mind, worked faster than ever, then he came upon it. Something in his soul that he had never seen before, yet he knew it well, an old friend seen for the first time. Payten reached for it.

***

He looked up at the night sky and cackled. So young and already he had found them, to win a child’s game at that. What promise this one had, brimming with potential and resentment. Truly a danger that could make the world tremble with time.

He laughed again, enjoying the feeling of air entering his lungs it had been so long since he had felt flesh.

The youngblood wanted victory, he would bring him victory.

He reached inside his body.

His heart burned with Sangus; the mana of blood. The boy's master had not trained him in this art, saying it was poor practice to spread oneself too thin before the time came. But he knew he could use this, he could find his prey. He smiled, the taste of blood filled his mouth he drew upon the power of his blood. Seemingly guided by instinct he guided the mana to his head, where it began to pool amongst his sensory organs. Whispering filled the back of his head, he brushed it aside, it was far too soon.

He opened his eyes, through the walls he could see veins of those who dwelt inside. By Th’kalla it felt good to use his gifts after so long. He blocked out the useless stream of information. He craned his ears and nose, hunting for the trail. He heard the soft heartbeat of a young woman a few blocks away, he brought air into his nose and examined the scent.

Too old and human, Wrong one.

He tried again, he found another fainter pulse to his left, he breathed in deeply. This was the one, his prey.

He moved on all fours, crossing the streets in great loping strides. He snarled to himself, this body was weak, unfit for anything but death.

Surely the youngblood would not mind if I made a few changes?

A spike entered his mind, his arm buckled and hit the ground in a roll, leaving him bruised.

Peace, youngblood worry not. It was just a suggestion. Stop fighting and learn what I show you.

He resumed his hunt, saliva filled his mouth as the heartbeat grew louder. He was close, the smell filled his nose. He hungered, too long had he been deprived of the hunt. He silently approached his quarry, he could see her dimly in the light squatting behind some crates.

Your task is complete youngblood, treasure what I have shown you. Trust your master, learn all he knows. But do not tell him about us, it is not yet time for the world to know the power we grant you. Your questions will be answered slower than you like but sooner than you expect.

***

Payten stood hunched on four legs, confusion dominating his mind. He vaguely remembered tracking Zolta but it seemed far away as if he was viewing the memories from a distance. A feeling nagged at his brain that something of great importance had happened, but no matter how hard he thought he could not figure out what. The lost time was strange but it had happened before, he often found himself lost in a task. Hours flying by without him noticing. Though this seemed different, he remembered words he did not say, feeling he had not experienced them.

From somewhere inside himself he felt the call of the hunt and heard the promise of power in his ears. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something strange had happened.

How had he managed to find Zolta this time? Why was he on all fours? Why was he so hungry?

He grimaced, so many questions and too few answers. Still, he would be able to get one over on the half-elf so whatever happened couldn't have been too bad. Staying on all fours he prowled over to the crates and approached Zolta from behind. He reached out and grabbed her leg.

She screamed, he laughed. “Found you,” he said with a massive grin on his face.

“Don’t scare me like that!” she said, swatting his hand away.

“You tried to scare me every time!” he said

“Zolta! Payten!” Saybien’s voice reached them, somehow a whisper and a shout. They glared at each other and headed back towards their teacher. Payten did his best not to look smug, it was unseemly to gloat after all. However, that did nothing to dissuade the young woman from shooting daggers into his back. He felt uncomfortable under the girl’s gaze but refused to let it show. He had attained one victory and he would not soil it after the fact. And besides, he had much more important things to worry about. He knew something was wrong, he could feel it in his bones.

They soon returned to Saybien, still sitting on a crate smoking his pipe. “Well done, Pate. I knew you had it in you. By the time I'm done with you, you’ll be a master sneak and passable tracker.” He smiled wide, revealing the mosaic that was his mouth. Payten couldn't help but puff up at the praise. Saybien’s smile disappeared, “be cautious, you did a good job tonight but do not let small victories go to your head and cloud your sight. Overconfidence will kill you quicker than any foe.”

He nodded, his master also frequently exalted the virtues of humility and caution. Beside him, he felt Zolta’s anger rise.

“And to you my daughter, you must remember another’s victory does not take away from your own, to sulk when you should be congratulating your training partner for overcoming your dominant performance is the only shame you should be feeling. For there is no shame in defeat as long as you learn from your failures. This time you grew complacent, picking a spot for comfort rather than stealth. Next time do not underestimate your opposition.” The man’s eyes burrowed into Zolta as she stood fists clenched eyes staring at the ground. Payten pressed himself against the wall, wishing he could phase through it and avoid whatever this was.

They all stood unmoving, waiting for someone else to break the silence.

“I am going to bed.” Zolta whispered

“Very well you are dismissed.”

Zolta stormed away towards the shop. Payten sighed with relief, happy it ended without a screaming match.

“Payten, come here” he obeyed, approaching the man.

“What did you do?” The man’s smile was gone, all that was left was a glimmer of curiosity.

“What do you mean?” he said, knowing exactly what he meant.

“Every other time I sent you tracking you wandered around like a lost duck. This time you were like an animal, prowling on all fours and sniffing the wind. Such things aren't normal for a boy your age you know? “ The smile returned to his face, Payten shuffled his feet.

What would he tell the man, when he did not know himself? Why did his gut tell him to hide the truth, particularly from Hark? But what if Saybien could help him find out what had happened? Was it more damning to tell the truth or to lie?

An idea popped into his head.

“I’ll tell you on two conditions.”

“And what might those be?” his smile widened.

“One: you can tell no one, not even Hark. if I tell you it must be kept secret.”

His head cocked, as he listened more intently.

“Two: you must tell me how you were able to see us in the streets.”

Saybein stayed quiet as he tapped out the burnt herbs from his pipe, before reaching into his pouch and repacking the pipe. He snapped his fingers and the herbs caught fire, he took a long draw.

“Fine Pate. I’ll agree to your terms unless you plan to backstab my daughter or Hark. In which case I will be forced to intervene.”

“No it's nothing like that, you see …. “ Payten launched into an explanation of what had happened to him, or at least what he remembered. He told the man how he hardly remembered what happened. The only thing he could remember with absolute clarity is how bad he wanted to find Zolta, then things got foggy like a window smeared with grease. He remembered lopping through the streets like an animal, the smell of blood in his nose. And most of all he remembered the whispered promises of power, he kept that to himself. Out of fear of being labeled a mad man? Out of greed unwilling to share what was his? He did not know. When he finished his tale he asked the man if he knew what had happened.

Sabyien took another long draw of his pipe.

“Pate, I have no clue what happened to you.”

His shoulders sagged, he was hoping to at least get some ideas from Sabyien.

“So you have never heard of anything like this?”

“No my dear boy, the opposite. Far too many things could be responsible. Possession, a battle trance, a mutation. Really Pate is there any more you can give me to narrow it down.”

He shook his head no, he had nothing left. That he was willing to tell that is.

“Why do you not want to tell Hark? It could be dangerous.”

Payten stared at his feet, unsure of how to answer. Finally, he decided on the truth

“A feeling in my gut tells me now is not the time.”

Saybien stared at the night sky for a moment before responding. “Gods above, I can't believe I’m saying this but in that case, you should keep it to yourself.”

Payten stared in shock, it was far from the answer he had expected and if he was honest he had little hope that Saybien would force him to tell Hark, as he was he could not force himself to do it.

“Really?” was all he could say,

“Yes, really and you better not let it bite me the ass. If you learn one thing from me, learn to trust your gut.”

“Why?” he asked, it seemed unwise to follow your stomach over your mind.

“There is a lot to this world and a mind is a busy place, there is only so much one can think about. Yet, the mind notices; feels the changes in the wind, senses the flow of mana, picks up on details you wouldn't even recognize. Since the mind has no room for them, it shoves them into your gut where they build up into an idea.”

“Is that true?” Pate asked bewildered

“No clue, but my wife told me that a long time ago and she was one hell of a woman. So there must be some truth to it. Saybien smiled sadly and looked up at the stars.

“I told you what you wanted, now how did you see us in the street?”

Saybien’s eyes snapped back to Pate, his usual cheerful demeanor back as he reached behind him into a crate. From the crate, he pulled out a mirror.

“I scryed you.”

“And that is.”

“I used magic to see you in the mirror.” He rested his hand over the mirror, closed his eyes, and chanted in a strange tongue. Soon he finished and turned the mirror towards Payten, on which the two could be seen from a bird’s eye view.

He looked up scanning for whatever was looking down on them, he could see no such thing.

“How do you do that!” he let excitement get the better of him as brought his nose inches from the glass.

“Trade secret.” He winked again, “If you want to know you should ask Hark, he has always been better at that kind of thing. Anyway It’s getting late, you should sleep.” he smiled one last time as emptied his pipe onto the street.

Payten nodded sensing he should not push the topic. Though he was greatly pleased this had gone much better than he thought it would. “Thank you for everything.”

The man clapped him on the shoulder. “Run along now. It's bad luck to pester an old man who wants to be alone with his thoughts.”

Payten nodded and headed inside, on the way he noticed just how tired he was. His limbs felt like lead and his eyes slid close unless he kept them open. He groaned it had been a long day and he still had to do his training regimen before he could sleep.

###

Saybein looked up at the night sky hoping an easy answer would come to him, none did. He sighed and reloaded his pipe. Hark was right there was something more to the boy than met the eye, tonight was even more proof. As his old friend had told him there was something strange about his soul, he had theorized it was a spirit bonded to the boy at birth, a technique common in the Eastward Wastes. Yet, one night when Pate slept Hark checked for that very thing and found nothing.

Saybein hated to admit it, it was a young boy’s life at risk after all, but he was excited to discover the truth about the boy. There was too much strangeness for it to be happenstance and it had been so long since he had found a mystery worth his time. To call him and Hark thieves would be a great disservice, they were secret searchers with no place they would not venture for lost knowledge or forgotten power. How he missed such a life, gambling his life against stacked odds only to come out on top. What he would give to ….

He shook his head, he was a father now he had no more time for such fancies. Though he was leaving with Hark to the Arcane collective, when he got there he could find a safe place for Zolta and ….

There he went again, dreaming of what could be instead of what was. He had promised Elsia all those years ago that he would watch and protect their daughter and he could not do that dead in some tomb. Still, it was a shame to have so much knowledge and power and no one to carry on his secrets. He had tried to pass down what he knew to Zolta of course, but she had no interest in such things, no matter what he did. She was too much like her mother, a gentle soul who sought peace and security. Born without the hunger; the emptiness inside that drove those like him and Hark …. And Payten. Yes, the boy was young but he could see it in his eyes, blue voids that sucked up everything they saw. There was no doubt in his mind Payten was born with the great curse of ambition, just as he was.

Gods’ pity us poor fools blessed with the wisdom to know better but the arrogance to try anyway.

It was a fact of life, one born with the hunger could never be filled. They would keep going and going becoming more powerful and more ravenous until they wither away or wrap their jaws around something large enough to choke them on their hubris.

He sighed he had long since committed himself to wither away, each day the fire in his belly that drove him forward in the face of death dimmed, soon all that would be left was embers. Then what would be left? A senile old fool with ash in his stomach?

He shook his head, he really was an old man now. Looking back past and rambling about things that did not matter.

Still, a wiser man than him once said it is a great shame to burn out without lighting more torches. He would still try to teach Zolta the secrets he had amassed but why not Pate as well. Once Hark’s enemies learned of him he would need all the help he could get.

Plus the boy seemed to motivate his daughter, perhaps some friendly competition would motivate her.

He dashed out his pipe, it was getting late and the shop had to open in the morning.

***

Payten sat on his bed pouring over his notes as he prepared to practice his mana channeling. Since he had set out with Hark his skill had improved rapidly. He was much faster, could throw around more power, and could now maintain focus for hours. Still compared to men like his master, he was but a clever insect. If he wanted to stand amongst such titans he had a long way to go.

*raprap*

“Come in.”

His master opened the door, he sat up surprised to see Hark at such a late hour.

“Hello, lad.”

“Hello, master.” SHIT did Saybein tell Hark about what happened during training? “What brings you here at such a late hour?” he asked, doing his best to act casual.

“With the robbery, we have planned we will be staying in Longdale longer than I had planned, as such I have decided the risks of having you practice necromancy within the city’s walls are outweighed by the benefits.”

Payten leaned forward his fatigue overpowered by his thirst to learn. What added to his eagerness was the fact that despite being a necromancer’s apprentice he had done close to no necromancy. In fact, now that he thought about it, he had only raised one real corpse and a goblin at that. Why had his master waited so long?

“Master, why did you wait so long to teach me about your specialty?”

“Long? Lad, you have been with me just over a month and while you have been progressing at a breakneck speed you are still far from able to use a fraction of what I could teach you. In fact, teaching you how to raise a corpse this soon is so hasty it is bordering on unwise. But for better or worse I have faith that you will not misuse what I teach you.”

Payten’s mind whirled as question after question popped into his head.

“Am I progressing fast?” This was not the first time his master had made such a comment, yet he did not feel as if he was. He had learned less than five spells and still was nowhere near the level of Hark.

Hark shook his head, “Tis a folly that we spend our youth praying for haste and our Grey-years praying for it all to slow. But to answer your question Payten, you learn what you are taught at a pace I have never seen before.”

His chest puffed up as he opened his mouth to speak before his master’s finger flicked his forehead.

“Wh... ?”

“If I let your head grow any bigger I would have been pushed out of the room. Remember, lad, you are weak right now and even when you are not a single mistake could kill you. If you let arrogance rule your thoughts you will find nothing on this path but death.”

Payten rubbed his head but nodded in agreement, he had spent his life around arrogant asshats and he was not eager to join their ranks.

“Now do you still have the weasel we preserved? Good, now get it.”

Payten reached under his bed and pulled out the cloth he had wrapped around the weasel’s body. He cringed as he unwrapped the package, expecting the smell of decayed mutant rodent to violate his nose. He was pleasantly surprised to discover that his master had told the truth and the weasel both looked and smelled identical to when he had first performed the preservation ritual.

“Very good, lad. Do you remember the runes I taught you the first time we raised a corpse?”

“Yes”

“Good, this time we will not use them. At your stage of education, we must strive to build strong foundations and add tools that you can use when the moment is right.”

“Now come here, lad and pay attention, first you must …. “