Orel and Andras walked to the office just in time for the meeting. Andras walked first, guarding Orel with his large build. Without any special treatment, they waited in line until the uninterested clerk was waiting for them.

"What was it, The Voyagers? You have a scheduled meeting." She said. "Sarah! They're here!"

"Please come this way." Sarah, a short and round clerk full of sunshine, smiled from cheek to cheek.

With the meeting room doors before him, Orel hesitated to step in. His breaths were short as the doors seemed to tower him like two giant shields. It was not until Andras pushed him forward that he could take a step. On the other side, a large man with muscles matching Andras, with half his stature, waited, arms crossed. Though his clothes were far from the tactical wear he was used to, the red bush on his head and cheeks was too distinguished not to recognize.

"Wait, you!" Orel's jaw dropped.

His heart suddenly felt at ease. All the tension went up his lips to form a warm smile.

"You know this man?" Sarah asked.

"We met during our last quest." Orel sat down around the table.

"Now that you mention it, we saw him in the castle," Andras said.

"You were brave out there, boy." Diarmuid smiled.

"Ahem, let's move on to business." Sarah opened her case. "Please conclude in fifteen minutes or less."

Andras sat down, feeling peer pressure from watching the others. A small yet awkward silence past the room.

"Well, we don't have a problem having you, right, Andras?" Orel said.

"Nope." Andras was glad Orel was not nervous anymore.

"Then, let me ask you. What are you guys planning to do?" Diarmuid asked.

"Um, we can't tell here, but we're planning for a job in Eden's gate," Orel said.

"Eden's gate, huh." Diarmuid was feeling a bit iffy. "Well, sounds alright as long as I get my share."

"Then you're welcome to join." Orel smiled.

The two had nothing else to say, yet Andras was not letting another moment of silence fall on the moment.

"Oh, for god's sake, shake on it!" Andras slapped his thigh.

His words were just right on time and in the right tone that the ice broke as if he hit it with a sledgehammer. Even Sarah could not help but crack a smile while checking the papers.

"Heh, sure, kid, I mean Orel," Diarmuid rose to stretch his arm. "Let me be of help."

After a long time, Orel had no hesitation in his actions. He gripped Diarmuid's hand tightly and felt his eyes light aflame again.

"Good, but you still need to sign the papers." Sarah tapped her fingers.

"Right." Orel laughed.

"You too, big guy." Diarmuid turned his head. "Glad to be working with you."

"Say that when the work is done," Andras grinned.

The two's handshake was something different—muscle on muscle and a silent nod. Nothing more, nothing less, and it was just enough.

Both Orel and Diarmuid read the terms, though some raised questions.

"What is the difference between a temporal and permanent member?" Orel asked.

"Same as with any other work. With a temporal member, you set a time or quest limit for the contract. Permanent, on the other hand, is by the name a permanent occupation until further notice." Sarah explained.

"Which one were you thinking, Diarmuid?" Orel asked.

"Hmmm." Diarmuid had to think for a moment. "how about this? I test the waters with a temporal contract, and if things work out, I can join as a permanent member?"

"Sounds good to me." Orel shrugged.

"That is certainly possible." Sarah agreed.

After signing the papers and acquiring a new party member, the Voyagers were ready to head out.

"You don't have a party HQ, I reckon?" Diarmuid asked.

"No, we have mostly just been at my house," Orel answered.

"Since I'm only for a short while, can I stay there for a moment? I didn't think the housing part through."

"Sure, we have room."

"You're sleeping next to me." Andras gave a thumbs up with a toothy grin.

"I see." Diarmuid was hoping there would still be a wall between them.

The three walked out of the office as three members of the Voyagers.

"So, you two have magic?" Diarmuid asked.

"I...I create coins." Orel looked down.

"Oh, a conjurer?" Diarmuid stroked his sideburns. "Well, you're still a young lad. There's time to grow."

"What about you, big guy?" Diarmuid turned to Andras.

"What was the word? Evocation?" Andras scratched his head.

"What sort? You don't need to tell me if you don't want to."

"Fire. Lots of it." Andras said bluntly.

Andras turned to Orel with an anticipating gaze and leaned in to whisper down to his ear. Diarmuid felt nothing about such secrecy, as it was common practice to mages even in the forces.

"Should I tell him about the blessing?" Andras asked.

It was not necessarily an easy question, but Orel did not need to think for too long for an answer, as it was plainly obvious.

"It's going to come out sooner than later, so we might as well explain it now." Orel sighed at how meaningless it felt.

"Okay." Andras rose and turned to Diarmuid. "I have a blessing that heals me and turns sunlight into mana."

While it was not the whole truth, Andras did not know the answers himself, so a white lie would have to make due.

"Wow, that's a mighty blessing." Diarmuid nodded, throughout impressed.

"It's just that healing takes a lot of mana. When there's no sun, I get pooped quickly."

"He still has some trouble adjusting his output with magic. The last time he used it, he burned down a forest and almost died." Orel explained.

"Still, that sounds pretty impressive on its own," Diarmuid said.

"What sort of magic do you have?" Andras asked. "You use it, right?"

"Right, I almost forgot." Diarmuid blushed slightly.

"I saw the rune's on your arms," Orel remembered.

"You got that right." Diarmuid rolled up his sleeves. "I'm an enchanter. My tribe makes these tattoos. It's a big ceremony as they're passed down from the mentor to the pupil. Each one of these is like an automatic spell that activates when a hostile force or magic comes in contact with it, but they can also enhance our abilities. Think of them as automatic true strike and ward."

"So cool." Andras was amazed at the patterns.

"Of course, these tattoos aren't the only thing I can do. I've made some magic items in the past, but they didn't sell well, so I don't bother anymore. Turns out people only want to order them, and I wasn't up to that business."

"Could you make something for me, like a sword?" Andras was beyond thrilled.

"Making a magic item isn't easy, you know. It doesn't work like you only scribble some lines on paper and poof! Now it's a magic scroll. It's like smithing a weapon while strengthening it with dynamite." Diarmuid laid out the facts.

"Sorry," Andras blushed.

"None taken. It's a general assumption mages still make. They don't care about the craftsmanship; all they want is the product."

"Could I try making one?" Orel asked.

"Sorry, lad. It's reserved for us enchanters, much like creating objects is to you."

"But I could create a magic item you made, couldn't I?"

"Well, I've heard it's possible, but, you know, it's like ordering a cheap knock-off phone. It can either not work or blow up in your hands." Diarmuid tried his best to put it lightly, but the ghostly memories of conjurers trying to replicate grenades during their training still lingered in his memory.

"Besides, I think you have other ways to develop your spell."

"Like what?"

"That's for something you to figure out."

"Uh-huh." Orel rolled his eyes.

On the back seat of a limo, Norman felt squeezed between two bodyguards with rather heavy frames. On the opposite of him was his personal butler, Shauna. The black windows made the whole space dark and gloomy, very fittingly, in fact. Even if one were to look out, there was not much to see. The car was going through an underground highway, where similar expensive cars scarcely passed by in the dimly lit tunnel. After what felt like an eternity, the car stopped for inspection. The reinforced door creaked open slowly. The darkness subsided as the limo emerged out of the tunnel into the radiant sunshine outside.

Sun, beaches, casinos, and skyscrapers. No long pants in sight, no hotel without no vacancy, and no street not stuffed with cars. It was the artificial oasis of the east coast, Puerta Blanca. On the northern hills with the whitest, grandest and bombastic mansions was a lone estate that could be seen from way down the busy streets. Norman fretted at the sight and turned his head to the beaches. Thankfully, they were not going there yet.

"How is she?" Norman asked.

"Master Lisa has been stable," Shauna said.

"Good, good." Norman sighed with relief. "Did you tell her?"

Anxious silence swirled around Shauna's edged face.

"No, there was no need." She answered.

The car stopped around a private hospital near the more luxurious part of the city. Norman stepped out with a bundle of flowers, still covered by the bodyguards. Inside the hospital, they did not need to explain themselves. They merely walked through and entered one of its many rooms. In the room was a frail woman with a messy bush of dark hair and her body strapped to medical equipment. Her drooping eyes slowly turned from the window to meet Norman's, whose eyes were already watering.

"Lisa, I'm back." Norman stepped forward.

"Stay there." She said with a hoarse voice.

There was no hint of joy on her bony face. Norman understood how hard it was to stay positive with a condition like hers. Still, Norman was expecting at least a hint of emotion when seeing your brother again after so long.

"Lisa, it's me, Tobias." Norman took another step.

Her drooping eyes opened up.

"Norman, it's you!" Lisa straightened her back against the headboard. "I couldn't recognize you for a second."

"A lot happened while I was gone." Norman smiled.

"Why are you here?" She asked.

"I-"

"Master Tobias has been brought back to serve his duty as a prince of Norman." Shauna interrupted him.

"I did not ask you, Shauna." Lisa's frowned.

"Yes, master." Shauna backed away.

Lisa's eyes turned back to Norman. "Go ahead."

"I made a mistake. Looks like I'm back to stay." Norman sighed deeply.

"Come here." Lisa tapped the side of the bed.

Norman approached with soft steps. As he came closer, Lisa pulled him down to sit next to herself.

"Could we have a moment, please?" She asked the servants.

"As you wish." Shauna stepped out of the room with the other bodyguards.

The two of them were left alone in the silent room. Norman blushed while Lisa's lips curled up to a small smile.

"Did you have fun out there?" She asked.

Lisa was the only one Norman could trust, the one he could always tell everything, at least in the past and in his head.

"Yeah." Norman looked out of the window without a smile.

"Then why did you come here? I told you. You will never find happiness here. They can't keep you here, so why don't you leave?"

"Maybe before I could, but I can't now," Norman said.

"Why?"

"They threatened to hurt Orel and his family." Norman's face dropped.

"Your friends?" Lisa raised an eyebrow.

"Well, you could call him that." Norman flushed.

"Are there others?"

"Well, there's also Andras and maybe Orel's family, if you can count them."

"Could you please tell me about them?"

"If you want."

Norman told about how they first met at the port and their travels from the cold and beautiful nature of the north to the dark and mystical lands in Albion. He retold their fights, obstacles and triumphs, their laughs and cries, how he felt at ease and safe with them. Lisa laughed with him but could not help tears form in her eyes. She was almost jealous, though more than anything, happy. For the first time ever, his brother had found people that cared about him, something he could finally call a family.

"Are you alright?" Norman saw the tears in her eyes.

"It's nothing." Lisa wiped them away. "You must have found some excellent friends."

"Well, it doesn't matter anymore." Norman frowned. "I'm never going to see them again."

Suddenly, Lisa pulled Norman's head to her lap, slowly caressing his hair.

"It must have been tough." She said.

Norman couldn't hold his tears anymore. They poured out his eyes, flowed across his face, and dropped from the tip of his nose, staining the white sheets. His cries were still quiet as always, though the pain was greater than ever before.

"It's alright." Lisa wiped his tears.

"No, it isn't. It's all my fault that Orel is in danger." Norman cried. "If I was never born this way and stolen your spell, none of this would have happened."

"None of this is your fault. You can't blame yourself for our parents, who you are, what they did to us, or what you did to me. Besides, would you be willing to forget everything that happened, everyone you have met?"

"Of course not, but what choice do I have?"

"Then, believe in your friends. If they are anything you told me, they will come to you."

"No, they will die, for sure." Norman shook his head.

"Can't you trust them to do that?"

Norman gave a laugh through his tears.

"Orel's such a stubborn kid. He would go here even if I told otherwise." Norman's face grimaced in pain. "But he won't survive Eden's gate."

"If you can't trust your friends, I can't help you." Lisa gently pushed Norman's head away.

"I want to believe such a fairy tale ending exists, but life isn't that fair." Norman stood up.

"The first step to failure is to expect it, Norman. Letting yourself down before the world can won't save you or your friends."

"I'll keep that in mind," Norman said with a pained expression.

Shauna and the others entered the room. Listening to their conversation and its end gave them the timing cue to come in.

"Goodbye, Tobias." Lisa waved.

"Bye, Lisa." Norman walked.

The room went quiet yet again, yet Lisa could feel a presence lingering somewhere. In the corner of her eye was a shadow without much of a form, yet with a pair of sharp eyes staring right back at her.

"Do you have something to say, or are you making yourself known for nothing?" Lisa asked.

"I apologize for eavesdropping. I was given orders to listen to your conversations." The shadow spoke with a soft yet distorted voice.

"Was there anything else?" Lisa frowned.

"As you have personally ordered, master Tobias was not told about your current condition."

"Good. I don't want him worrying about me." She sighed with relief. "But what is that you are truly here for?"

"I come bearing a warning. Your effect on master Tobias is seen as detrimental, and the family would ask you to stop encouraging such foolish behavior."

"What behavior? Talking to him? Having an honest conversation? What are you talking about?"

"Since you are a member of the family, they still attempt peaceful negotiations. That is if you cooperate. Simply put, we do not want you to meet up with master Tobias for a while. That is all we are asking."

"That is not up to me, isn't it?"

"Perhaps not, but we would want you not to agree to see him again soon."

"Why, is something going to happen to him? What are you going to do?" Lisa had a cold sweat.

Though the specter had no mouth to speak of, Lisa could feel a smile creep up along its dark appearance.

"These friends you two spoke about are truly a danger we cannot dismiss. We must prepare to get rid of them if they were to appear and present a threat against the family."

At that moment, Lisa finally understood all the worry in Norman's words. She could not describe how manipulative their means were, even though she was subject to it while she was still living at the estate. The family was not only prepared to kill his friends, but they were openly inviting them in, from what it sounded.

"Is there something wrong?" The shadow asked.

"No, I was just thinking." Lisa turned her face away in shame.

"That was everything I was ordered to do. Please respect our agreement, and best wishes for your health." The shadow disappeared.

Lisa was left in the room again, sweating and her heart racing. She felt the need to warn Norman but was already fearing for her own life. Her life was already short, but the sheer terror of having it end through none other than her family's hand made her shiver in place. There was no remorse in the shadows' eyes like it would not matter who or what they would see laying lifeless before them. The only thing she could hope for was that it would not be the last time they would meet. Unknownst to her, it was what Norman feared himself as he walked out of the room.