The green gem of Saren’s necklace glowed in the twilight. Zara watched, in the Mirror, as Saren unclasped the jewelry and put it around her neck.

She admired herself, in front of her own full-length mirror in her home, with the necklace on. It was a simple black chain, and Revan had a professional jeweler attach the gemstone on it. It looked like something you could get at any upscale jewelry shop or stall.

Saren smiled at herself, touching the glowing gem daintily among her plunging neckline.

They had watched her walk all the way home. Zara’s fascination with the Mirror’s magic kept her rooted to the desk for an hour now.

“This is amazing. It’s eerie…but amazing,” Zara had whispered, awestruck. “So this is how you do it. This is how you see.”

“That’s right,” Revan had answered, amused.

Zara still watched on with the same mirth as when Revan had first summoned Saren’s image. That is, until Saren began to undo the laces of her lavender dress. Zara grimaced, and forced the Mirror down flat on the desk when Revan made no moves to do so himself.

Revan cleared his throat. “That’ll be all from the Mirror today. I hope you learned something from it.”

Zara nodded solemnly. “I learned. I learned that I was always right for thinking you a creep.”

Revan frowned. “You have the wrong assumption.”

Heat rose into Zara’s face. “Have you…have you ever watched—” She shut her mouth, too embarrassed to finish what she wanted to ask, and also a bit surprised at herself for trying to ask in the first place.

He sighed. “This was a talk I was not looking forward to ever having.”

Zara scrunched her face, scooting her chair away. What she really wanted to do was refuse to look the man’s way until her mortification passed. But the day was not over. There were other lessons that Zara had been adamant about starting as soon as possible. The desire to learn magic trumped her shame, but it didn’t make the moment now feel any less uncomfortable.

“I do not watch you at your intimate moments, Zara. I have no need, nor desire, for it.”

“…Oh?”

His denial did not make her feel much better, for some reason.

“You have no desire?” she asked again. “Absolutely none?”

Revan smiled. “Is there an issue? I thought you would be relieved.”

Zara scowled, her cheeks still blushed. “I am. I truly am. I don’t want your eyes lusting over me without my knowledge anyway—”

“They don’t. I don’t lust over you at all.”

The urge to look away, and even leave the room altogether, had grown stronger, but she also wanted to really berate him, and she didn’t understand why she should feel this way. It made her angrier and more humiliated for it. Why should she care that he finds her so undesirable that he does not have a modicum of passion to lust over her? It was a relief that he didn’t!

But does he have to be so blunt about it?

He shrugged. “Not to worry. There were times I’ve mistakenly caught you undressing, or bathing, or quelling your own lust-filled—”

“You WHAT?!” Zara burned. “STOP talking!”

“—and I always put the Mirror away immediately, my dear. You don’t have to worry about any lingering, phantom eyes watching you while you are alone. I would never want to see any part of you that you wouldn’t expose to me anyway.”

Zara’s mouth hung open, speechless. Her face felt aflame, and this time she did look away from him.

“Now that we have cleared that out of the way, do you have any other questions for me before we move on? I prefer we stay on task here—”

“No,” Zara snapped, her annoyance still lingering, “you can’t say that. ‘Stay on task’? If I had not set down that Mirror, you would have been happy watching your beloved, clothe-less, Saren all day long!”

Revan rubbed his eyes tiredly, exasperated with this accusation. “Why is it that you keep assuming I have feelings for this woman? I told you from the start I’m after her abilities to see across time, and her incredibly powerful instincts would make a great enhancement for my own senses. I need this. Therefore, I need her.”

“Need her?” Zara questioned skeptically.

“I need to get close to her, to her spirit power. That’s what that necklace is about, and that is what that gem will help me get. I also think it would be wise for us to get to know her, and be her companion. She may come with other uses.

“Zara, it’s not every day you come across people like her…similar to us. When I sensed you…” Revan paused, smiling wistfully at what Zara assumed to be his memory of meeting her. “…it had been years since the last mage. Magic—real magic—in our world today has dwindled so much it is practically nothing. You are living in such a time now. When I was growing up, there was not much of it even then, but the difference was still significant. Don’t you want to see, and learn, more? Are you not the least bit curious about Saren?”

Zara didn’t need much time to think it over. Of course she was curious about Saren. Of course she was immensely suspicious of the woman’s abilities, the most uncanny part of them being her strange visions of the past that she’d been so vague in recollecting. This was information Zara would not be able to find in any textbook or old scroll in any library. Not even Revan, with all the books he owned, would have the knowledge Saren possessed.

Saren seemed friendly enough, and maybe, if Zara got over her nerves and opened her heart a little like she had with Cina, she could find a new friend in her. However, Zara still questioned Saren’s character. She’d been enamored with Revan, and had been expressing it even when she’d assumed the man to be married to Zara. Zara just did not find that to be a very good trait for a woman to have, and it had left a poor impression from the start. But she hoped she could look past it, for Revan’s sake, and perhaps, for her own benefit as well.

“Yes,” she muttered, remembering again how her meeting with Saren had ended. “I am. It was like she was trying to get inside my head. Whatever power she has over the mind, it felt stronger than yours. Harder to fight.” Zara met Revan’s eyes. “I would like to get to know her. And I really would like to know more about our history, too. She seems to know it better than you.”

Revan chuckled. “I don’t think she even realizes how much she knows.”

“Why is that, do you think?”

“I don’t know. This could be a good opportunity for us to find out.”

“Hm…the lands of the far east, huh? From what little you could tell me, there may be remnants of magic still there.”

“Within its soils, or the air, yes. It’s only a guess. Even my Mistress could not say for certain. No one has been there, or lived there, in a millennium.”

“I truly believe it to be some sort of black magic that’s keeping people out,” Zara thought out loud. The more they spoke on this, the more confident she felt about their plans to befriend the half-spirit thing—whatever Saren was.

“I have a feeling she will come around again soon,” Revan said with a smile. “I think next time, I will let you speak to her. You could use a friend like her anyway. She seems more reliable than your old one.”

Zara rolled her eyes. “We don’t know that yet, but if you say so. But please, next time, could you maybe act a little less like a boy in love?”

Revan raised a critical brow at that. “I’m sorry? A boy in love?”

Zara nodded with firm lips. “I know this may be your way of getting close to women, but it felt a little…off.” Zara chortled. “I don’t mean any offense, by the way. But for someone who has claimed to have had wives before, I expected…” She trailed off, searching in her mind for a word that would fit.

He sighed, agitated. “What? What is it that you expected, hm?”

“Something a bit…suave?” She broke into a small giggle, only to shut up instantly after seeing the baffled look on Revan’s face.

“You’ve been reading those novels again haven’t you?”

“…No.”

“Zara. Those frivolous characters you love so much aren’t a reflection of real men, most of the time. Also, I told you to limit your fiction. You should be studying on your own time. I granted you library access to gather historical documents, current events, and to research new worldly findings when you are not training.”

“And I am doing that.”

“But you are also wasting time fantasizing.”

Zara groaned. “Well, sometimes, I need a break from all the studying you make me do.”

“I don’t exactly make you do anything. But I prefer you not fall behind, since you are no longer attending school of any kind right now.”

Zara couldn’t help but slump at that. Sometimes, she wished she could attend a school, or a university of some kind. She had always wanted to. They had passed by a large university campus on the move down here, and it looked so busy, bustling with students everywhere. The building itself was ancient yet expansive. It was amazing.

She shrugged it off, though. She needed to be here, where it was safe. Though sometimes, even though she had more freedom to roam than she did back in Pria, it still felt somewhat the same in that she was kept hidden away from the rest of society anyway.

Revan studied her for a moment, and his brows twitched together. “Was I really that terrible at seducing her? She seemed to like me.”

Zara shrugged, attempting not to laugh at him again. “If she liked it, then I guess nothing else matters, does it?” She wanted to add that his appearance was probably the main factor here, but she didn’t want to overstep. This entire conversation was already bordering on overstepping as it was.

He sighed with resignation, staring off at the wall beyond Zara. “I excel in most areas except for romance, I suppose. Some of my wives have been arranged marriages—or I should rather say, forced marriages—and others were by mere chance; she just happened to love me. Anyone else in between and after were usually not done for love at all, before I left humankind altogether. As old as I am, even with all the experience I have, women…intimacy, are still troubling subjects. Perhaps…that is why Saren is easier? I didn’t feel as uncomfortable when I was around her. I am merely pretending, after all. Playing a part, like in a play. I don’t care about her. I haven’t cared about a woman in years.”

Zara had sat up straighter in her seat. Her interest always piqued the highest whenever Revan willingly chose to talk about himself. It wouldn’t last long, so she wanted to extract more out of his past whenever he was in one of his moods to be more open with her.

She leaned forward. “H-How many wives did you have? What about children? What happened to everyone? And why did you isolate?”

As if Revan had been yanked out of a stupor, he looked back at Zara, his softened eyes hardening back into a glare.

“Again with the back-to-back questions?” He stood up, rattling his chair back in the process. Zara flinched back. “Get up. We’ll take a break, you’ll prepare us a meal, and then we can start on the next phase of your training—the one you wouldn’t shut up about.”

Were her questions so bad to make him suddenly this cranky?

Even so, learning to morph would be exciting. So Zara nodded, as an agreement to stop digging into him.

“Yes, sir,” she said quietly.

Zara stood up and glanced around the table, where Revan had laid out various types of jewelry with these special gems. At the corner beyond the table was an open chest with a few of men’s jewelry and clothing, all embedded with gems. Each gem had a unique ability, depending on the color. So far, Zara knew the green could suck the power out of a mage. In this case, they were trying to use it on a spirit…of sorts. Some of the other colors, like gold and sapphire, could alter one’s personalities for better or worse, depending on what the user required of their victim. She didn’t know about the other colors yet; they both had been more preoccupied with the Mirror, after all.

Revan had also hastily mentioned that he hadn’t taken too many gems out of the cave so he used them sparingly. She had wanted to know more about this haunted cave and the beastly spirit he had met, but she had been stupidly distracted by Saren lingering around a snack stall, arguing with the seller while deciding between cakes and biscuits.

Amid the array of earrings, bangles, and hairpieces, Zara picked up a clear gemstone ring. Her heart gave a sudden pump as the type of stone was familiar to a ring she had owned before. She had owned a few other rings like it, but the one she was thinking about now—and had ended up wearing the most in her past life—had firmly bound itself with very unpleasant memories.

A ring that reminded her of one of the biggest mistakes she had made in her life so far.

“Revan?”

He’d been setting some notes aside by the shelf near the curtain. “Hm?” he answered.

Zara held onto the new ring, tightly. “Before Saren arrived, you were telling me about what you’ve done to Rowan,” she stated.

“…Yes. Well, we can discuss it after we’ve eaten. I think I’ll have some tea afterwards, for a change of pace—”

“That is all fine.” It didn’t matter to her if he wanted to delay the subject for now. She was getting answers today no matter what, be it now, or later, or before bedtime. She would not care how he felt about her questions—she would hound him if he delayed too much.

She toyed with her fingers, bare of any jewelry for the past year.

Losing her old ring, the one she’d given Yohid before he was jailed and killed and Revan returned it to her possession, had been insignificant. To the point that she had mostly forgotten about it. Now, she couldn’t help but wonder where she had left it. Because she hadn’t brought it with her, that much was certain, but she remembered wearing it during the party—the night she had run.

Wherever it had slipped off among the disorder she had caused wasn’t what was really bothering her, though.

“I do still want to know what you did to change my brother. But I also can’t help but wonder…what was Yohid, if not a mage?”

Revan frowned deeply at her. “What are you implying?”

“You said that it had been years before you sensed me. You’ve mentioned this when we first met as well. Now here is Saren, this strange anomaly that has all of your attention, the same way I had. Yet, you never mention anything about Yohid. It’s almost as though he wasn’t significant, even though he was sacrificed as a curse. Why didn’t the boy ever hold your attention, the way Saren and I do? Why was his life not worth preserving, or learning more about?” She squinted at him. “The more I think about it, the less it makes sense.”

Revan ran his hands through his hair, and his eyes closed as though Zara was irritating the shit out of him. And maybe she was.

“What was he?” Zara repeated. But she believed she half figured out the answer, and even though her exterior remained calm, her heart pumped viciously, afraid of what this Sorcerer would say.

Revan opened his eyes, his hands now clutched on his hips. He raised a brow, indifferent to her ravaging emotions.

“He was just a lesson,” he replied coldly. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

He exited the room, leaving Zara standing there, examining the ring in her palm, drowning in dreaded guilt.

Over the past several months, Pria had become a blend of confusion and chaos.

It started with the riots. Groups that were once at peace together were now thirsting for each other’s blood. Anyone who shared positive associations with the family responsible for creating such unrest in the first place were assaulted. At first it started in the streets. Then the fires and stones came to their homes, which then resulted in people migrating out in droves.

Something black had fallen upon a town that was once a source of light and salvation for many. At first, they had all seemed to have a grasp on what it had been. The chaos had made sense, at least. Now, it was just mindless.

Shia sat on the grass in front of his destroyed and looted home. In his palm was the key to this mess, but he didn’t even know why. It was on the tip of his tongue, every time he held the stupid thing. He found it during an engagement party he’d attended last year, a night in which he and every guest, including the children, had blacked out. The field had been a mess, the performance stage in shambles. Many had awoken on the field injured and sick. Some even had rashes spread throughout their body. There had only been one casualty that night, an infant. Shia would never forget the howls of the grieving young mother.

They had been poisoned, somehow, and that poison had seeped through every vein of every body in Pria today.

Shia’s family had done well to steer clear of the Anvars, but Shia’s friendship with the son had come back to bite them. His family had made it out. They had to be safe. Shia just had no idea where they had gone, though.

Maybe, this was all fate of some kind. Maybe he was meant to move on from this place. Alone. With nothing but the key in his hand.

He opened his palm, and the image took him back to Rowan’s house, in the middle of the night, during that dreadful event. He had found it on the grass, picked it up, and stared at it laying in the palm of his hand, the same way he was doing now—kneeling on the grass—this time in front of his own house—amid a horrible, panic-inducing situation. He’d been in tears that night. Fear and uncertainty ran through him like an illness. Back then, he had felt something more akin to grief. Like he’d lost something important to him. But why?

Shia continued to stare at the ring. The stone would have been transparent had it not been scratched and dull. It would have been beautiful. The silver band was small, fit for dainty fingers.

A young woman’s hand.

This ring…it was so familiar and alien at once. If his mind would work the way it should, everything would make sense.

Clutching the ring, he had an urgency to leave. He had no idea where to find his family. Maybe they were headed south. South was where he should be. He had no place in the north—its scenes and beliefs had always mismatched his family’s and his own, but Pria had always been a safe haven for just about anybody, and now it wasn’t anymore. The northerners were determined to take back their lands, and drive the outsiders—curses, they were calling them—out.

Shia fingered the ring’s band. The south called for him. Maybe he’d find what he was looking for there…

He gently kissed the ring, as he had done the day he first found it, on a memory that was now lost to him. The street was quiet.

Suddenly, shouts and screams commenced as a distant home was set aflame, its occupants smoked out into the waiting fists of zealots.

Shia felt a tug on his arm.

“Shia,” the shaky voice said. “Shia, hey. Hey we need to go. I found us…a-a wagon.”

Shia turned to look at his best friend. Of course he wouldn’t abandon Rowan, even if his loyalty had gotten him into this mess.

Rowan’s tear stricken eyes glanced around before snapping back on him, determined. “Shit. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, brother. We need to go. Now.”

“You found us a caravan?” Shia asked hoarsely.

Rowan nodded. “We’ll find your parents, but for now, let’s leave this shit behind us. Please.”

“Will the wagon take us south?”

Rowan huffed. “Where the fuck else is there?”

Shia looked back at the ring again. “I want to go to the city.”

“Now’s not the fucking time to be picky! We go where the wagon takes us. We’re practically fugitives, not travelers!” Rowan shook him by the shoulders. “Shia, are you okay? Something’s not right. I-I think you’re in sh-shock!” He tugged him away from the road. “Come on, just follow me. Follow me.”

They eventually made it to the wagon, far down the street. Shia was only mildly aware of his soot-infested surroundings. Everything looked the same to him. Everything was shit.

As the horses were whipped and the wagon—stuffed with “fugitives” like him—lurched forward, Shia closed his eyes, trying to remember the voice that soothed him. It was soft, comforting, and brought him some hope. He had no idea who the voice belonged to or what it was about, but for some reason, it brought him peace in tumultuous times. He still remembered the whisper, word for word:

“I’m so sorry, Shia. I’m sorry for tonight, for hurting you…I want to say more, but I’m leaving now. And it’ll hurt you again, I know it. Please, forgive me. You are truly one of the good ones here. You are a friend. I pray we meet again someday, but I’m not even sure if it’s possible. So until then, this is goodbye. Please look after my brother. And do not forget me.”

He could almost feel the gentle touch that accompanied her message…

Shia opened his eyes with a jolt, his fingers hovering over his cheek, and cast a disoriented look to his friend. They sat, afraid and flush together in this crowded wagon, watching their hometown whiz by them through the cracks of the covering.

“Rowan,” Shia said.

Rowan startled, then leaned over to hear him better.

“Do you have a sister?”

Rowan blinked, and for a time, his only movements were that caused by the jostling wagon.

Finally, he answered with another, bewildering question: “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Shia’s mouth went tight, and he shook his head. He was tired of hearing this voice with its equally strange words to him, but at the same time, he wanted to keep hearing it.

He placed the ring in his pocket, and closed his eyes again.