Aster stared at the body as it fell to the cold, stone floor with utmost calm.

Dark eyes stared up at the high ceiling of the room, unseeing. The scene remained for a brief moment before, like sand carried off by the wind, it dissolved all around Aster. When, at last, the world settled into a new picture, it was by no means any more pleasant than the previous one.

The city burned around him, so fierce and vivid Aster could almost feel the heat of the flames as they licked at the hem of his clothes and raged on without anyone to stop them. Great spires of smoke rose into the crimson sky while ashes and cinder rained down like snow on a cold winter day. He could hear screams in the distance, pained and desperate with fear—they were all cut short in an instant while echoing roars replaced them.

A building crumbled before him, and Aster found himself closing his eyes out of sheer reflex. He still stood there, unmoving and perfectly calm, in spite of the chaos that surrounded him. When next he opened his eyes, the scene had shifted once more. He now stood amidst a wide field bathed in sunlight and brightened by birdsong. Aster ran a hand over the tall asphodels around him as he walked closer to the most prominent feature of the meadow while the flowers around him petered out, their delicate white petals falling away until there was only an expanse of soft grass beneath his feet.

He stood before a large oak tree, its thick trunk splitting into several branches that broke off further and stretched out like a web into a wide canopy. Sunlight filtered through it, dappling the ground in golden light that turned the grass an emerald green. When the wind swept through the leaves of the oak tree, there was a whisper carried by it, gentle in Aster’s ears. It spoke of safety and stability—of hope—to be found beneath the shelter of the tree. Aster closed his eyes as he listened and felt the cool breeze wash over him, like the faintest touch of reassurance.

“Find he who lives by the oak.”

He opened his eyes and found a familiar figure before him, staring back with eyes of a stormy blue. They were striking, particularly accompanied by the coppery tresses covering one-half of a scarred face. Aster cocked his head to the side as he studied the man he’d met only once yet saw every night in his dreams. After a moment of thought he decided to try his luck, much as he had multiple times before with no results.

“What do you truly want in return?” Aster asked, hoping for an answer he could make sense of. For something that could turn the tides in his favor.

As he watched, the man reached out a hand, opening it to reveal a crystal—pitch black and speckled with glittering points, like stars amidst a night sky. Aster understood immediately and let out an amused huff.

“Is that all?” he murmured to himself.

It was all he could manage before the ground beneath his feet fell away and he found himself falling as well. Aster wasn’t startled by the sensation or the darkness that surrounded him as he dropped down a void with no end. He simply closed his eyes and ignored the rush of wind and the emptiness around him. Instead he focused on the things he’d seen and the bright hope at the end of the nightmare. Most of all, Aster focused on the price he’d have to pay to get what he needed.

Aster awoke to the sound of rain beating against the window. It was a soothing sound, steady and gentle in his ears. He laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling of the inn he was staying in—a quaint little place in an equally quaint town. The light filtering in through the window was weak due to the gloomy day, but it did nothing to dispel the faint hope he felt as he processed his dream. After a moment, he sat up and took a breath before readying himself for the day ahead.

There wasn’t much for Aster to do. For all that he knew that time was quickly winding down for him, there were few options present for him at the moment. He’d given Calixtus two days to think on his offer. Until then, Aster could do little more than keep to himself and hope he wasn’t found and dragged back home before he could accomplish his goal.

A knock at the door caught his attention just as he finished dressing. When he opened it, there was a young woman on the other side—large brown eyes staring up at him warily beneath a few stray tresses of chestnut curls. Aster knew that sort of response was to be expected, given his perpetually tired appearance and unusually dark eyes that only made him appear all the more pale. Apprehension was something he’d long grown used to seeing in those who approached him for the first time.

“A message came for you, sir,” the woman said, holding out an envelope Aster took gently. He thanked the girl, and noted she looked glad to be free to leave, though no less curious about him as she cast one last glance his way before hurrying off down the hall.

Aster shut the door, amused in spite of himself. He sat on the edge of the bed and opened the letter, having a good idea of who’d sent it. It was little more than a short note, scribbled messily and crammed into an envelope.

“Be quick on your trip. Your family misses you.”

Aster could have laughed at the poor attempt at being cryptic though he wasn’t surprised, considering who it came from. Still, he was grateful for the warning. Even if he was sure he’d have enough time to do what needed to be done. Or, in the case of a refusal from Calixtus, enough time to move on.

As he thought of this, Aster held out a hand, hardly paying attention as the slip of paper on it burst into flames. It was gone in an instant, leaving no trace of the note nor of the fire that incinerated it. Aster thought it was better to play it safe. After all, he wouldn’t want to endanger what few allies he had in the world. He only hoped he’d be able to add one more to their ranks sometime soon.

“Calixtus Ducasse,” he muttered, gazing out the window at the gloomy day outside. In the distance, past the haze cast about by the pouring rain, Aster could just make out the home he’d visited the previous day. It was a stately place. In spite of its modest size, but he could see the truth of Calixtus’ situation.

Aster recalled the things he’d uncovered during his search for the man occupying his dreams. A man who was, in spite of his past merits, so average no one would consider Aster turning to him for aid. Or even taking a passing interest in him. Calixtus was, after all, past his glory days.

The accident that had so clearly damaged his body and ended his career had seen to that.

It wasn’t an event Aster had witnessed—though he didn’t witness much of what went on around him thanks to his work keeping him busy—but he’d certainly heard of it. Such a catastrophic failure during the testing of a magic artifact was definitely something he would be made aware of. Even when it wasn’t something he’d developed.

He made a note to look further into the incident if he ever got the chance. If not because of genuine interest, then at least to make sure it wouldn’t happen again.

With that thought in mind, Aster went about his day. He spent much of his time in the inn’s dining room. The room was spacious but held a certain warmth thanks to the lively crowd taking shelter from the storm. Aster chose a seat in the corner and simply watched the people chatter amongst themselves while trying not to call attention to himself in spite of being so clearly out of place. It was a very different sort of place than what he was used to.

When he thought about the dim rooms of the Magic Tower, with their cold stone walls and thick scent of herbs, Aster found that he didn’t miss it as much as he thought he would. Perhaps spending some time away from what he considered his home wouldn’t be as bad as he’d thought. With luck, he'd come to enjoy it, even knowing he'd have to return to the tower at some point.

The thought accompanied Aster for the whole day, lurking in the back of his mind as he did his best to focus on the present instead of what the future might hold. His dreams, after all, made sure that he spent more time than was appropriate wondering about the things that could be. It was an exhausting way to live. That might have been why he found his time in the little town so restful.

Aster fell asleep that night to the sound of rain—steady and soothing. That, along with the warm comfort of his bed lulled him into a soft sort of sleep. It was shattered when he opened his eyes and found himself in a room he knew all too well.

He saw a flash of silver before hearing a sharp breath, a pained sound that held not an ounce of shock. Cloth rustled and, when next he saw the blade, it was stained a deep red. Its wielder—as was always the case—was but a hazy figure Aster had yet to figure out the identity of. The gaunt man who’d been stabbed stumbled back, a pale hand clutching his stomach.

Aster stared at the body as it fell to the cold, stone floor with utmost calm. Dark eyes stared up at the high ceiling from the same face that greeted him each time he glanced at a mirror.

He watched himself bleed out on the floor and felt certain it was as it was meant to be.