The Monastery of Nesberbak stood in the middle of the valley of the same name and was one of the most sacred places for the Order of the White Flame. There, the knowledge that had been harbored for centuries since the Order's founding was guarded by its priests and adepts.

The Monastery was where Regent Revom Gran had chosen as his home. The enormous walls of chiseled stone, which represented historical events of the Order, guarded the Regent's most precious possessions. It also guarded his most important secrets. One of those secrets was Airall.

By then, Airall was a young man that the whole Monastery knew of, but none seemed to know him well. The young priest was too reserved and elusive with the other Order members and was rarely seen with anyone who wasn't part of the librarians or with the Regent Revom Gran. He would only approach other members on an obligatory basis during essential events and prayer times, or he would cross paths with them in one of the multiple wings of the library.

Another reason that was much more palpable was that Airall was a hybrid. The boy wasn't human enough because of his pointed ears and violet eyes, nor was he elven sufficient because of his round, cheeked face. To the more orthodox members, he shouldn't be there, but that was something he didn't care so much about.

Truth be told, Airall was a model member of the Order; diligent, kind, and honest; he never missed his classes and was always willing to help his superiors.

In these last few days, people were seeing Airall much more excited than usual, and not for nothing; for starters, Revom would be returning to the Monastery that very day. So, naturally, the boy was happy to see the one who had raised him again. On that basis, the boy was also very excited to see and show him the spells he had learned.

While Airall was diligent and dedicated to his work in the wing of the library where he did his services, he was a curious teenager. He was capable of getting into some mess that he could quickly fix and pretend nothing had happened. His curiosity led him to a new anthology of books donated by the Council of Wizards of Valkas, the capital of Mordia.

The boy had been in charge of its arrangement and of finding a place for these vast and multiple tomes of elemental magic that the Council's apprentice wizards had to learn throughout their studies. As was to be expected, the boy's curiosity made him leaf through some pages, and in the middle of the library, he cast a couple of spells.

The first was a vocal incantation, something soft and fleeting. Next, the boy read the spell, read its words, and how he was to extend his hand. In that way, Airall began to gesture with his fingers the pattern he was to make, while with the other, he followed the spell with his finger glued to the leaf of the book.

"Vola Ventisca!" whispered the boy with a lively voice.

The boy heard a strong gust of wind and felt his hand tremble at it. Then, all the candelabras hanging in that library section began to shake, and their candles went out in unison.

When anyone came over to see what was happening, AIrall feigned astonishment from his place as high up on the bookcase ladder like everyone else.

The boy sought to cast a more precise, concrete spell for his second attempt. The young half-Elf sought out the papers used in the messenger spell, a thick, mystical paper that could withstand the most brutal heat and the strongest storms so that a small bird would reach the hands of the messenger. Airall had an excellent visual memory; when he borrowed the materials for the spell, he performed it in his room that night.

While his memory was good, his hand coordination was lousy, so that bird looked like it would only be able to fly because of his will. And so it was, the boy thought of Revom, the one person he wanted to send a letter to, and watched as his bird flew with difficulty and in terrible condition.

A couple of days later, when Airall learned that Revom would return to the Nesberbak Monastery, he realized that his message had reached him. However, the gesture he expected from Revom wasn't what he would have expected.

A large procession took place, where members of the Regent's congregation and himself were cheered and greeted by the priests of the Monastery. Airall was in the audience, shouting and applauding for the man who had raised him.

When the pompous acts were over, Revom himself fetched Airall and led him to a far aisle while taking him by his arm. Airall was happy to see Revom, and his smile gave it away; however, that gesture from the boy soon vanished when a slap flew to his face.

"Have you lost your mind!" shouted Revom, furious.

"Wh-what did I do?!" exclaimed Airall as he grabbed his cheek that burned from the pain. The tears were not long in coming and soon filled his eyes.

"This!" exclaimed Revom between his teeth, holding the bird the boy had sent him. "Was it you who did it?"

"Y-Yes, I did..."

Revom angrily clenched the paper in his hands, which soon turned ashes.

The boy watched dumbfounded and tearful as the bird he so painstakingly made, so lovingly wrote the words inside, turned to dust.

"N-No!" cried Airall, sobbing.

Revom grabbed him by the arm and, with a look full of anger, shushed Airall.

"Don't you ever do that again, EVER!" shouted Revom. "Was I clear?"

The boy sobbed; his lower lip trembled, and his violet eyes were swollen.

"Was I clear?" insisted Revom once more.

Airall nodded vigorously.

Revom let go of the boy's arm, "Well, I hope-"

Airall, as soon as the Regent released him, turned and walked hurriedly down the hallway, wiping the tears that kept falling from his cheeks with the long sleeve of his robe.

Every time he returned home, the Grand Regent of Nesberbak held a huge banquet to commemorate the return of Regent Revon Gran, a legend of the Order who lived in those times.

Revom shared the large table with his superiors and the other senior members of the Monastery. While he was flattered by that, it contrasted greatly with the people at that table. While the Regents and High Regent wore white robes and adorned the jewels and shining cloths that forged the status of their titles, Revom wore white robes that almost made him pass as a random member of the Order. The old man was dispersed, and his closest apprentices noticed him from their table.

"He really doesn't want to be there," Hardel exclaimed in a whisper to her friend.

"You know he doesn't like these dramatizations," Sorika replied, alluding to the wastefulness of the banquet. "The good thing is that at least we'll be eating well, something we haven't done in months."

Sorika laughed as a hot dish of meat and vegetables was brought to her. Without hesitation, the kitchen of a place that harbored knowledge was where the best recipes would be found.

Hardel, for his part, again served another helping of food, something he was rarely able to do over the months. The boy with almost whitish hair watched his master. The man's wrinkled face wore an enormous concern.

"What is ailing him?" the boy asked his friend.

"I don't know," replied the girl with long braided hair and a full mouth. "He's been like this since they told us we'd be back."

Hardel sketched a certain discomfort at hearing her speak with her mouth full. However, he soon turned his gaze to the front, where his companion Eizell was talking with other members of the Order.

Eizell belonged to the Fist of Rivris, the Order's armed wing, and as expected, he talked about his achievement on the battlefield with the local novices.

"He's very egocentric," Sorika said in a whisper to her friend.

Eizell tended to the masses with his tale, "Then I swung my sword at both riders to take them down, and when I wanted to finish them off, another pair rushed at me. So it was four against one, but Tisvar and Rivris gave me the victory..."

"I saw that fight," Hardel said.

"Did he really fight four against one?" asked Sorika.

Hardel shook his head, "Both riders must have broken their necks when they fell, so he just finished them off."

The High Regent called for silence from the bustling dining hall. Then, as another pompous speech came out of his mouth, dozens of long tables were called to silence.

Revom looked around the tables, searching for the half-elf. The Regent had noticed the boy's absence all evening, and he knew the reason was evident. The old man searched the tables for the boy until the High Regent caught his attention by grabbing him by the shoulder in the middle of his speeches. At that moment, what he begged Tisvar the most, was for that man to shut up.

When the High Regent finally finished his speech, Revom stood up from his seat, drawing the attention of him and the other High Regents.

"Excuse me, High Regent, I must attend to a matter."

Airall spent the entire afternoon locked in his room, as he had so many times before. The boy didn't let himself cry for a moment as he sank into the pain and fury of what had happened.

The boy just wanted to surprise Revom, the man he could call father but had rarely had the opportunity to do so. Revom rejected that word; it was a way he couldn't address him, even though the oldest memories the half-Elf had were with that man.

It had always been like that; for him, his home was a prison. It was like the cage that contained a bird, very ornate and beautiful, but it was a place where his freedom was ultimately taken away.

Turning on his bed, hitting his pillow with his hand, or screaming on it, the boy couldn't get out all the frustration he had inside. Furious and lost in thought, Airall got out of bed and walked over to his desk.

He searched his books for the papers he had left over to make another one of those little birds. Airall knew he should at least see the face of the person to send it to, but really not knowing anyone outside of there, he didn't know who to send it to.

I just want to get out of here.

He wrote through tears and sobs. Then he walked over to the only golden metal window in his room. Hoping someone like him would find it and help him, the boy threw the bird. He watched it fall into the void, and from one moment to the next, it soared into the sky.

"Airall, are you there?" asked Revom, knocking on the door of the boy's room.

The boy was silent.

"I know you're here, Airall. May I come in?"

The half-elf frowned, and when he heard the door open carefully, the boy slipped back into his bed of fine linens and soft mattress, far more than others of his status could get.

"I'm coming in, Airall."

Revom found Airall lying on his bed, hugging himself as he looked as if he were still sobbing.

The man cleared his throat and closed the door before stepping into the room. With a wave of his hand, the candles in the chandelier above them lit, revealing the boy's beautiful and cozy room. Unlike other students and priests of the Order, Airall had a room that was brightly lit and full of comfort during the day.

Revom walked over to the boy's bed and sat on the edge. Out of the corner of his eye, the old man watched the round-cheeked boy, thus seeing the significant red mark he had left on one on him. The Regent saw that bruise and an old wound on the boy. One of his pointed ears still bore an extensive scar from when he tried to cut them off long ago. Revom thanked the gods daily for getting to where the boy was that day and stopping him.

The old man interlaced his fingers and, after swallowing saliva, tried to give that boy an explanation.

"Airall, what you did... what I did... I..."

The man sighed as the words didn't seem to want to come out of his mouth. The boy quivered and stopped himself from bursting into tears again at that moment. Revom watched him and felt his heart shrink.

"Please don't do that again," Revom pleaded as he brought his hand up the boy's head. The boy shrank back a little more as the older man stroked his hair. "Magic is very dangerous, more so if you have no supervision. You could have hurt yourself; you could have hurt others. So please promise me you won't do it again..."

Airall pursed his lips and, with no other choice, nodded. The boy still couldn't look into the eyes of the one who should tell him, his father, so when he sat on the bed and Revom hugged him, he barely reciprocated.

Revom wrapped his arms around Airall. He knew well that the boy was upset and that he had misbehaved in that situation.

"You don't have to go to the dining hall if you don't want to. I will say that you have permission to go eat in the kitchen whenever you wish."

The half-elf nodded, and Revom looked at one of the boy's hands.

On Airall's right hand was carved the symbol of the Marked Wizards.

Revon sighed and adjusted the boy's ringed sleeve so it could not be seen. After that, he rose from the boy's bed and bid him farewell.

"See you in the morning, Airall," the man exclaimed before closing the door and leaving.

Airall watched the floor silently, frustrated and annoyed by the situation, until something tapped on his window. The boy turned and watched as a paper bird attempted to enter.

Startled, the boy opened the window, and the bird flew into his room. After a couple of circles around the room, the bird landed on his right hand.

The letter opened, and Airall soon read its message.

The message was simple, but it drew on Airall's face a grimace of astonishment.

"Hello, Little Bird."