There was a slow clap, followed by a short fit of coughing. "By the gods," Azrael said, standing from his throne. "Quite a gift indeed. I have seen a bit of pyromancy in my life, but never of that magnitude, especially from a caster so young." He paused and called out to his guards, "Someone relight these damned torches!"

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Jynn said, breathing heavily, still on his knees.

The room filled with sounds clanking armor and choice words as the guards fumbled around getting the torches alight. Once relit, Azrael beckoned a tall, bulky guard over.

"Your Grace." the guard said. His armor differed greatly from the standard iron mail of the other palace guards. A metallic-white cuirass fit over his torso cut off at the shoulders, leaving his chiseled, muscular arms exposed. Matching metal bracers wrapped around his wrists and a gorget and two gold ribbed pauldrons sat atop his shoulders, all reflecting the torchlight. Gaudy plate leggings and greaves of the same metallic-white covered his lower body. He didn't carry the same spear or long-swords of the standard court guards, but rather dual, short, and wide blades at his waist. Connected to lengthy chains at the hilt.

"Craetys, help our new guest to his room. Take him to the spare chamber on the north side of the inner circle. Take Sora with you as well; get him off to bed."

Craetys bowed. "Yes, Your Grace."

The highguard was clearly of Grim lineage, tall and imposing, but his accent sure wasn't that of his kin. He spoke with someone of authority – baritone and rugged, but oddly rich and silken at the same time. The kind of voice that when heard, people heads turned to listen, powerful around its edges but with a gentle center, like an eye of a storm.

Azrael turned to the young, prince Sora. "And as for you, no sneaking off mingling with the lowborn, do you understand me, boy? If I catch you again you will work like one and shovel shit out of the horicon stables."

Sora nodded.

"Say you, are you well?" Craetys asked Jynn, the caster slowly regained his strength to stand

Jynn groaned. "I am, allow me a moment."

"What you did was quite remarkable."

"What I did was quite remarkably stupid, and dangerous."

"Why so?"

"Well, using magi on a scale such as that is dangerous, indeed, even deadly under certain circumstances. Not for you or the kingdom, mind you, I made sure of that - my apologies for the window - but deadly upon myself."

"Not to worry about the window, Jynn. It's good to see King Azrael put in his place from time to time. But why dangerous for yourself?"

"It's complicated," Jynn said. "In simple terms, a caster cannot use more energy than their body allows."

"Energy you say?"

Jynn chuckled. "You wouldn't understand, and I would not expect a non-caster to."

Craetys nodded. "Fair enough. Can you walk?"

"I can."

"All right, follow me and I'll lead you to our guest chambers." Craetys turned to Sora, who was sitting on the arm of his father's throne while Azrael ordered a terrified servant to go find the local glassmaker to fix the shattered, palace window.

"Sora!" Craetys called. "To me."

The young wild-eyed boy that Jynn now knew as Sora, hopped out of the large throne, and ran to Craetys as he escorted Jynn out of the throne room. They entered the Grand Hall through one of the two large doors on both sides of the throne. A candlelit, crystal chandelier hung over a dual stairway which curved into one at the palace's upper deck. Streams of gray waved through the ivory-colored marble floor and ceilings, radiating their waxy glow. Beige tapestries, with the symbol of the Vaer woven into them, hung from the high walls along with ornate pottery, sculptures, and other decorative pieces.

"This place is incredible," Jynn said, taking in its beauty. Large doors stood to the left and right, and an open passage led under the stairway. "Where does that go?" he asked, pointing to a door on the left.

"That leads to the Dining Hall," Craetys replied. "Up there—" he pointed at the large, arched opening above the stairway,"—is the Hall of Council. The door to the right will take you to the barracks, but we'll be going this way." he nodded at the passage that led under the stairs. "That will take us to the outer circle."

Then went, and ahead, Jynn observed many portraits of men that lined the walls. On the right a dozen or more paintings of the late Kings of Eden, and on the left, only five, five portraits of the Old Gods "Quite a talented artist"

Craetys cocked him an eye.

"The portraits, they're well painted."

The highguard looked at the wall. "Aye, the works of Lord Veril. Talented man, indeed."

Jynn stopped and looked at one of the Old God's portraits. "Vaeryn, I assume?" The frame gleamed with polished brass. A plaque in the frame had writing inscribed upon it in a language he didn't understand.

"Aye," Craetys said, "That would be Vaeryn, the father of all creation and beside him his four sons." He went down the row naming each one. "Nimyk, Grimok, Kosmir, and Cinhdyr."

Jynn looked back at the painting. The face inside wore a long icy-blonde beard, and matching hair that dropped past his shoulders. His pupils were nonexistent, his eyes solid white. The artist outlined them to express a whiteglow "My Lord, have you ever pondered creation?"

"An odd question, but I doubt no man hasn't."

"Difficult to comprehend, isn't it?"

"We cannot comprehend it," Craetys expressed, "Our minds simply cannot wrap around the idea of the infinite. Come let me show you your chamber."

Jynn rolled his neck wearily, he had used a bit more energy than he intended. They went on.

"Caster, you travel alone?" Craetys asked. "You bring not your mother, a friend?"

"I never knew my Ma." Jynn could sense a bit of remorse from Craetys for asking.

"Forgive me," Craetys said, "I meant no ill."

"No ill caused. She died during my birth, I'm told."

"Sorry to hear."

"It's fine." Jynn changed the subject. "I mean not to come off as rude, My Lord, but are you of Grim descent."

"I am. Why do you ask?"

"I figured so, but I noticed your accent, vastly different."

Craetos laughed. "Years and years of serving the crown will do that to you I suppose."

"I suppose so." Jynn smiled. "From where do you rein, My Lord?"

"Why none other than the great mountains of the North, child," he bowed.

"Home of the fearsome Algeddon."

"The one and only."

"Do you think dragons are real?" A voice chimed in behind them.

Jynn turned around to see the prince. He had almost forgotten he was even there.

"Dragons?" Jynn countered the question. "Do you?"

"I don't know." The prince said cheerfully. "But I like the story of Algeddon, oh, and the story of the Eyes. It's my favorite. Big monsters guard them, like Algeddon." He outraised his little arms for effect.

Jynn laughed. "Monsters you say?"

"Yes! The guardians."

"Well, I come from a place near where one of the guardians live." Jynn said.

"Really?" The prince beamed. He looked up at him with wide eyes.

Jynn nodded. "Indeed. In a place we call the The Lost Wood."

"Ooh, can you tell—"

"No, Sora" Craetys interrupted. "The caster is weary and it passed the hour for you to sleep."

"No problem, My Lord, I would tell a bit while we walk if it suit you. I'm a fan of stories myself." Jynn insisted.

Craetys agreed. "It's just that his father would have my head if I were keeping him up. No one knows what has come over him lately," he trailed off. "But yes, come. Tell us caster, Naryell is a dreadful place I hear."

"Quite," Jynn said, "Old Nim folktales say when people entered its misty thicket, you lost sense of direction, and most often never return." He regarded Sora's eyes with sudden suspense. "They say the ones that have are better off dead. Even after all of these years, nobody dares to enter, even over a myth ages old. The stories speak of this spirit named Gruel, whose gaze alone would feed on your soul."

"Oh!" Sora grinned.

"Well, only two people have survived to tell the tale, and both eventually went mad."

"Mad?"

"Ill"

"What happens to them?"

"They lose their minds, but I hear they never truly die. Their spirits return to wander the forest forever."Jynn saw Craetys find pleasure in watching young Sora's expression beam with curiosity.

"Have you ever gone there?" the prince asked.

"I haven't. The tale terrified me when I was younger. I suppose that fear was enough to keep me away."

"Oh."

They chatted and proceeded on down the hallway entering the outer circle. From there, they made their way around, and took a right through a windowed corridor. The Earth shone beautifully tonight with its blue and verdant sheen. All heads turned to marvel as they passed by the tall, arched windows.

"Jynn?" Sora asked, "Why did the gods choose you?"

Craetys cleared his throat, insinuating the question deemed rude. Jynn gave him a nod in a gesture to let him know he didn't mind. "I can't answer that. I'm not sure why I was chosen?"

"The gods work in mysterious ways, Sora." Craetys added.

"Will I ever get power?"

"Magi? No." Craetys said.

"How come?"

"When Vaeryn created his sons, he bestowed upon each of them a gift. Nimyk was given the power we call magi. For whomever he saw fit, he passed some of that ability on to his people, the Nim."

"What about me?"

"The Vaer haven't received a gift in centuries. No one knows why."

"How come?"

"As I said, the gods work in mysterious ways, boy, but don't lose your hope. You may be the one Vaeryn's awaited. It's written the gods have a special purpose for bearers of the gift. Nimyk has chosen Jynn be a bearer of the magi, and seeing as how talented is our friend here, and at such a young age, I'd say they quite like him." Craetys gave Jynn a genuine smile. "Quite like him, indeed."

A smile played across Jynn's own. He rubbed the back of his neck. Of all the people, why me? he thought. What purpose could they possibly have for me?