“So where exactly are we going, if I am allowed to ask, that is?” The auburn haired, shadow mage spoke up. The abrupt sound of his voice startled me.

Looking over I met his glowing green eyes, in his hands was a small gathering of thornspire. The serrated, lilac petals of the flower stood out against the nearly black of the stems. 

“Aren’t those like… venomous?” I questioned him.

Laughing lightly he responded, “No they are just toxic. If you touch it and it kills you, it's poisonous. If it bites you and you die, it's venomous. If you ingest it and you die, it’s toxic.”

Looking back at us, disturbed by the shadow mage’s overtly enthusiastic response, Palaemon gestured for him to drop the flowers, “Isturn, drop them now.”

“Ilian,” the shadow mage responded.

Shaking his head, Palaemon gestured to drop the flowers again, “Drop. Now. And to answer your question, we are going to Caer Tower.”

Dropping the flowers, Ilian smiled at Palaemon and asked, “What is in Caer Tower?”

“Caer Tower is where the training colosseum is. It also holds our mage library. Every book, poem, scroll, hell even drawing, that contains anything about a mage or our histories is housed in Caer Tower,” Finney interjected.

“It’s where you lot will go to train everyday. The first few days will mainly be in the Library, I would highly suggest you use your time wisely with it. Read up on what others of your ilk can do. Especially those of you with the weirder mage types. There aren’t many shadow mages on the isle and I sure as hell don’t have any blood mages for you to talk with. So any information you are going to get on your abilities are going to be coming out of the library,” said Palaemon.

The other mages snickered behind us. Turning to face them they laughed again and shoved playfully at each other.

“I don’t think they have to worry about learning how to use their magic. They aren’t going to last one day in the colosseum,” the earth mage said.

Scoffing at his boastful nature, Palaemon met the earth mage’s gaze, “I wouldn’t be too sure about that. Blood and shadow mages are stories of caution for a reason. You don’t call something a plague for nothing.”

The earth mage paled and clenched his jaw. Palaemon nodded to me before returning to face forward. We traveled the rest of the way in silence, our aphiel’s confidence in Ilian and I seemed to quiet the other’s antics. Ilian returned to looking at the passing flora and fauna in the woods around us. He seemed so gleeful at the abundance of things to look at.

It wasn’t that long after that we emerged from the woods and started on a cobble path. In the distance was a large colosseum flanked by two adjoining towers. As we grew closer the detail work etched into the sandy colored stone began to show. Guards stood posted at every entrance to Caer Tower and a fleet of them stood posted above, ready to take aim if needed. As we approached, the guards at the front gate greeted Finney and Palaemon.

“Aphiel Palaemon, good to see you. I see you bring new faces with you today,” said the guards lightheartedly, “Sir Sion is here with a new gaggle as well. He said to tell you he would wait for you in the upper watchtower, he has something he needs to discuss with you.”

“Greetings Dian, Victor,” Palaemon said acknowledging both guards, “Did Sion mention what he needed to speak to me about?”

“No sir. Just that he needed to converse with you.”

“Of course,” Palaemon turned to Finney, “Escort them to the Library, I will meet with Sion, join us when you are done please.”

With that Palaemon let go of Finney’s hand and disappeared into the tower. Finney’s gaze followed after his companion, worry furrowing his brow. Finney’s concern for Palaemon filled me with a faint sense of envy. It was all too apparent how deeply the two cared for each other, even if they didn’t make a large public display of it. The gentle touches. The loving glances given even if the other wasn’t looking. How quickly Finney noticed his partner was upset, even though Palaemon’s face and tone was emotionless. They must truly be in sync with each other. I pondered to myself what it must be like for them to fight together. How unrivaled they must be on the battlefield. 

The idea of having a companion like that filled me with a dull ache. I felt so alone before, even more now that just about everyone shunned me. I wonder what it must be like to let someone be that close to me. Would they be able to look past my affliction? Would they offer me a gentle touch like Finney did to Palaemon? 

“Alright Isturns, let's move it,” Finney barked.

Finney walked into the tower and navigated its many halls with ease. Even the castle had a simpler layout than Caer Tower. I tried the best I could to keep track of the many twists and turns we took but after a few minutes my head began to throb. After what seemed like forever, Finney slowed as we approached a large oak door. Opening it, he gestured for us to walk inside. As we entered we were greeted by two older mages draped in heavy wool cloaks. Behind them was the biggest Library I had ever seen in my life. Thick oak tables were lined in the center of the room, each held lamps lit by mage light.  Surrounding them were a smaller circle of bookshelves followed by a short set of stairs. Surrounding the outside of the circular room were the large bookshelves, so tall that they needed a balcony to break up the middle as the ladders couldn’t go up far enough to reach the top of the case. My mouth fell open in shock as I took the room in.

“Isturns this is Thyandril and Taurin,” Finney said holding his arm out to indicate the older mages, “They are the librarians for this section of the tower. They have cataloged this entire room and are the leading historians regarding different magic types. I suggest you treat them with the respect they deserve,” Turning back to Thyandril and Taurin, Finney joked, “Taurin if they act out don’t be afraid to give them a little shock.”

“I hear you brought us a blood mage and a shadow mage this time,” Thyandril said excitedly.

“Yeah these two upfront,” Finney said pointing to Illian and I, “The three in the back are common mages. The blondes are water mages as per Palaemon’s specialty. The brunette is an earth mage.”

“How thrilling.”

“Sure…” Finney said, eyeing the librarian suspiciously, “Rations were brought up last night, have them fed when you see fit, beyond that, do with them as you please. I will be by later with Palaemon to gather them.”

With that Finney turned and exited the library. His footsteps were light and quick as he made his way back to Palaemon to hear what news awaited them.

“If the water and earth mages would please follow me, I will take you to your respective sections,” Taurin said.

“And you two little creatures will follow me. I have set aside all that we have on shadow mages, I fear we only had a few for the blood mage,” said Thyandril as we walked to the back of the room.

Thyandril’s walk showed his age, he moved slow and methodical, careful to plan his movements lest he exert unnecessary energy. His long cloak slinked across the ground as we moved to the back of the library. At the very last table was a moderately sized stack of books next to an alarmingly small one. Thyandril rested his hands upon the larger stack of books as he spoke to us.

“Shadow Isturn, these are your ilk’s histories. At the top of the stack is an overall history dictating the first documentation of a shadow mage. You will find many interesting reads in these spines,” he said softly but with an enthusiastic lilt, “Blood Isturn, yours are here.”

Ilian and I pulled out our chairs and sat in front of our designated stack of books. Ilian gaped at the enormity of his books, puzzled as if he had never seen something like that in his life. 

Thyandril turned and left us to our studies. From the other side of the Library I could hear the soft banter of the other mages as they were shown to their sections. Just mere hours earlier they were at each other's throats, now they were like three peas in a pod. 

I grabbed the first book from my stack and set it infront of me. The leather binding was smooth and worn, showing its age. Dark stains were splattered across the cover, and I could faintly smell the blood that was soaked into the leather. Running my hand over the stains, a slow pulse clouded my vision and I could see the actions that caused the blood splatter. I could see the arching slash, the slow raining blood that followed.

Looking up I paused, wondering if anyone else saw what I had. Thyandril and Taurin crowded together discussing a large scroll, the other mages sat making faces at each other, and Ilian sat looking confused as he traced the words in his book. It seemed that the vision was mine alone, how peculiar. I didn’t know much about how a mage’s magic worked, but I knew vaguely that it was guided by movements and intentions. But I hadn’t really moved at all, and I for sure didn’t have any intentions of calling forth a vision like that.

I pushed the hair out of my eyes and opened the book. The words on the page were frantic and tilted. It was as if the author had sat hunched over his paper, trying desperately to cover its contents from prying eyes. The color of the ink was an uneven dark red. More blood. Who would write in their own blood? 

Curious to see if I could repeat my earlier trick, I brushed the pad of my finger over the letters on the page. The same haze clouded my eyes and I could see the outline of a disheveled man. His skin was stretched tight over his bones, and a boy that could be no older than eighteen, appeared to look sixty. His hair was graying and thin, his hands trembled as he wrote.

“It’s been barely a year since my transition. All I can hear is the voice inside my head beckoning me to take my fill. It’s deafening. It’s draining any ounce of resolve that I have. I don’t know how much more I can take –”

“Blood no longer smells of blood to me. I find it changes depending on the person, some are sickeningly sweet smelling, others smell smoked or roasted. I smelled someone today at the hostel that smelled of wine. My mouth watered uncontrollably as they walked past me, it was utterly excruciating not to be able to give it a taste-”

“I gave in last night. A gentle woman, so much older than I, she tried to help me. She thought I was an old homeless man. I tried to beg her to go away. I could smell it inside her. It screamed for me to taste it. But she got so close. By the time my eyes flared and she realized what I was, it was too late. She was too close. It was too much. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. She screamed, she begged and clawed at me. It felt… good. To feel her fight back. I… I enjoyed it… What kind of monster am I –”

Mmmm, how delightful, a sultry voice echoed. Pulling my hand away from the page I gasped out loud. My body erupted with goosebumps and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. Uncontrollable tremors racked me, I dug my nails into the wood of the table in a desperate effort to ground myself. Looking around I scoured the room for the source of the voice I’d just heard.

“Did you see something?” Ilian’s voice piped up from next to me. He sat resting his head on his hand as he stared at me quizzically.

“What?”

“Did you see something? I’ve been watching you for a few minutes now. Your eyes were pulsing, it was kinda cool actually,” he said.

“I…uh…” I stuttered unsure of how I should respond to him. 

“You don’t have to be embarrassed or anything. I see things all the time. I can bring some of them out, like I did this morning. So I know some of them are real. But I think some of them aren’t. It’s hard to tell sometimes,” he confessed.

“You see things that aren’t there?” I asked.

Tilting his head up to look at the ceiling he responded, “Sometimes… I think. My mother saw things sometimes too. We just kind of assumed I was the same as her at first.”

“Oh… I’m sorry,” I watched in awe as his gaze fluttered around the room. He was a rather odd little thing.

Changing topics back, Ilian met my gaze, “So what did you see?”

Contemplating being honest with him, I paused to weigh the outcomes of my decision. On one hand he could react to me with the same disgust that everyone else had. He could lash out and become violent with me in an attempt to try and protect himself. He could shun me. He could lacerate me with his words. On the other hand, Ilian seemed different from the others. Ilian seemed… gentle. I knew next to nothing of him, and him of me, and yet he struck conversation with me as if I were an old friend. As if I didn’t scare him. And though ever fleeting, his eyes held a deep understanding and intelligence in them. 

“I saw the author. I saw him writing the journal,” I answered, deciding it best to leave the part about the random voice out.

“Hmm,” he murmured, returning his gaze back down to the book infront of him.  His anticlimactic response floored me. I watched him as confusion twisted his brow and he traced the same line over and over again in his book. Leaning forward to get a better look at what he was trying to understand, I saw that it was the first line of the book. 

“Are you good, Ilian?” I asked.

Ilian paused, taking a moment to look up at me, down at the book and then up at me again. He opened his mouth to speak and paused again, clenching it tight.

“I don’t understand it,” he said.

His voice held an innocent plea to it. His tone was soft and unsure, as if he didn’t know if he should confide in me just yet. 

“What part do you not understand, maybe I can help if you want,” I said, truthfully not wanting to return to my own book lest more visions or voices come to fruition.

“Any of it. I can’t really read," he confessed.