The bay breeze dampened the windows of the Balerno dock buildings, and in the waiting rooms, a clock resonated with a sonorous tick-tock, announcing the arrivals of ships from other lands. These carried spices and other materials. The dock personnel skillfully and carefully managed the arrivals and departures. Among them, the day's last passenger ship swayed peacefully among the docks, floating on the water's surface. It was propelled by three amethyst crystals that pulsed gently, clinging to a large metallic lower support, adorned with details of white granite and reliefs of mossy basalt. On a huge wooden plaque, beside the hull, "The Crown" could be read, carved in bronze letters.

— I've finally arrived! — said Íthil as he disembarked from the transport ship. He took his worn bag and descended the stairs. The ship floated away over the waves, not very high, just enough to ensure a smooth displacement over the port's coastal waters, as it headed to its next stop in the region.

Íthil continued his journey after leaving the port, carrying only a military-style duffel bag in his hand. Looking at the horizon and without slowing his pace, he observed the forests that, usually green, were tinged red in these months. This combined with a ghostly reflection in the air that danced as if it were embers from a stove.

— Everything is ablaze — thought Íthil as he walked along the paths of Balerno port and gazed at the unique landscape that greeted him.

— Right! I forgot, it's the month of Zosma, the Red Moon! — Íthil approached a cart-shop located at the side of the path and took a basket of red fruits, paying for it with a bronze coin. Apples, blackberries, sweet potatoes, as well as candied gourds and cinnamon and clove spice ornaments, overflowed from a wicker basket.

— Thank you for your purchase! — a cheerful young girl took Íthil's payment while a boy in the back filled the cart, laden with what appeared to be crystalline corals of various types and shapes. These gleamed, tinged red as if reflecting the color of the foliage.

— Are you collecting the Manaquistos? — Íthil asked, pointing his finger at the boy passing behind.

— Eh? Oh… yes! They are very popular at this time! My brother and his wife prepare lamps with them; we only take the mature buds, and they only last a month, but they are highly prized by the Mageias! — the young girl replied cheerfully to Íthil.

— Plus, Manaquisto buds sell very well for making Lumarias! —

Íthil brought his hand to his chest and took a small flask that hung around his neck, its lid featuring a lead reticle mechanism with a small lever.

— Lumarias!, of course, they are essential for any Mageia — Íthil replied with the kindest smile he could manage.

— Of course! Lumarias prevent mana poisoning; they are absolutely indispensable for Mageias, it's a good business — the cheerful girl told Íthil. He thanked her and continued on his path.

— Yes, without this trinket, mana would invade my body when performing enchantments and would kill me if I didn't treat it. Sometimes I forget those things — thought Íthil as he looked at the pendant hanging around his neck. Activating the lever, the reticle opened and, inside it, the small crystalline bud unfurled a tiny fan of barbs that pulsed as if breathing, swelling slightly. Immediately after, it began to emit a light, ghostly reddish glow, like the Manaquistos the boy carried in the cart.

— Well, we'd better hurry, the Festival of Flame and Hammer won't let me sleep — Íthil walked along the path for a few more minutes until he reached the stagecoach station, where he took one directly to Nher Vael Arhym, the capital city of Dremoria and the location of the House of the Ocher Moon, the academy of Mageias.

The unforgettable landscape of Dremoria soon revealed itself to Íthil. Winding Manaquistos, crowned by fans and plumes, saturated roads and streets, while the sky began to turn into the eternal twilight that characterized central Dremoria. Banks of shimmering mist and the constant scent of petrichor, emanating from them, flooded Íthil's senses. His student years came back to him as he saw the children running through the streets dressed in the waterproof leather cloaks, characteristic of the House of the Ocher Moon, the renowned academy of Magicers.

He soon reached the main entrance. The cobblestone plazas, adorned with arrangements of black and white stone, patterns of magical protection circuits for the academy and its students, pulsed defensively in its streets.

— Haaaaa!… I don't remember us having so many stairs — Íthil climbed the inclined front of the second ziggurat. On each side of the staircase were covered walkways under wooden arches; these were covered by plants and an arrangement of Manaquistos that gently illuminated the streets and paths. Those walkways led to the halls surrounding the main building. More than halls, they were large red brick houses with stone tiles and a chimney. Their two floors consisted of a main floor living room with plush armchairs, while upstairs a small library and tables were arranged around balconies from which the lower floor was visible. Outside a hall that read, on a wooden plaque, "Initiates of the Black Moon: Basic Rites and Theory," three young men with the appearance of troublemakers ground some blackish pieces of what looked like charred branches in a mortar.

— I told you they'd notice! You're clumsy, Rein! — the smallest of the boys said to the other, who angrily ground the charred branches in the mortar.

— Shut up, Dein, your cowardice didn't help! And you, Zein, never helped with anything — he glanced sideways at the other young man who was breaking the larger branches into smaller ones.

— Hahaha, honestly, it was more fun to see their faces when they caught us than the prank you were planning! — said the smallest with a soft voice that sounded like a crystal bell. Íthil looked again, paying attention, and it turned out to be a very disheveled young girl.

— Poor kids! If Master Khan scolded them, that's just the beginning — Íthil thought. Those young people turned to look at him as they blocked the hall door. They saw him and didn't move, almost ignoring him. Íthil, in response, only smiled grimly at them. Seeing the Thar-Abbys insignia hanging from his chest, right next to the Lumaria, a chill ran down their spines, and they obediently moved away from the door. Íthil entered with an air of victory.

— Master Khan, are you here? — Íthil said aloud as he entered the unoccupied hall, warm from the crackling fireplace.

— Rein, lad, I already told you, finish grinding the Manaquisto branches! I already have the mineral oil ampoules ready, the ink for the group must be ready by six. Next time you try to draw an obscene scribble with ink in the great hall, at least procure it from somewhere other than my reserves… Oh. — an old man walked from among the tables and stared fixedly at Íthil. Dressed in a dark gray toga with silver thread, with coppery skin, black eyes with jade green lights, and a long beard with short hair and ringed fittings on his beard with multiple small animal skulls as keychains.

— Íthil, lad! Hahahaha! — the old man laughed heartily, raising his hands to embrace Íthil.

— Master Khan, how have you been! — Íthil approached Master Khan, and the two embraced, followed by a strong handshake. The three young people only watched, intrigued and curious, from outside.

— I see you're still attached to traditions and still make students make their own study ink — Íthil looked at the crystal ampoules of mineral oil neatly aligned on the table next to a wooden box that contained glass bottles of ink.

— Of course! Manaquisto ash-based ink is the best for studying. Its luminescent reaction to mana ensures that students pay attention and perform well in their studies. Furthermore, only the Mageia who writes with it can activate it, which assures me that they do their assignments themselves — the master said jovially as he arranged several ampoules on the shelves and desks in the hall.

— But surely you didn't come to discuss Moon ink with me, young Íthil — Master Khan retorted once more as he looked at him. Just then, the master, perplexed, took Íthil's head in both hands. Íthil, for a moment, hesitated, taking a step back, but then stopped, allowing the master Khan to examine him.

— Let me see more closely, young Íthil! — the master took his glasses with his hand and slowly put them on, approaching Íthil.

— I see! Lad, you have been in a very dark and wicked place, the void has burned your mind! — the master's voice grew deeper and more fearsome with each word, as if the room itself was shrinking. A dread stirred within Íthil.

— That which awaited in the darkness left its mark on you; I see a chain of fear and resentment taking root in your being — Íthil looked down. Huge drops of sweat ran down his forehead and cheeks. Suddenly, the darkness of the place seemed to take horrible forms: sinuous and twisted shadows swarmed from the deep cracks of the cabin. He felt a horrible presence that reminded him of that mine, which suddenly leaped and enveloped his face.

— All happy, all smiling, all celebrating! — Íthil heard the booming of each syllable, horrible and heavy at the nape of his neck, accompanied by a buzzing that consumed his ears, as if his body were being torn apart by a pack of anger and fury. He felt his being dissolve into the shadow.

— ELHEN NHER YTMYR! Shadows of yesterday, entities of hatred, you have no permission to enter, your existence is forbidden here! — the warmth abandoned the place as Master Khan recited in a loud and booming tone with every word. Jars and vials rattled against each other as if trembling with fear. In the midst of this storm, he glimpsed how the three young ones, who understood and were scared, ran through the hall, taking large Lumarias from the shelves and placing them beside him.

— Holy Ocher Moon! Íthil, Son of the Merak Moon! I command you to return from that place of shadows! Leave aside the realm of endings! Return to the warmth of our domains! — the master repeated sonorous words that, like a thread, intertwined to form a rope that Íthil clung to. The unknown shadows escaped through windows and cracks; the lanterns and Manaquistos regained their glow.

With a deep and rapid gasp, Íthil felt as if he was passing through a cobweb that clung tightly to him.

— AHHHHH! — Íthil gasped, recovering from the trance. He felt the warmth that had been snatched from him return to his body, while the shadows that had not fled the place were cut down by Khan's powerful will.

— And you, young ones, stop trembling, you are Mageias, not gelatin! —

Íthil heard the master's deep voice; the boys hurried back and forth following Khan's instructions.

— Ha, ha… yes! That's how I remember it, that's why I liked his classes — Íthil coughed a laugh as he stood up.

Khan turned with a worried look upon hearing this.

— Lad, how are you? — Khan asked, half scared and tired, helping Íthil up from the floor. — Íthil… I don't know what kind of darkness you found; the mere memory left in your mind became a horror in itself. You are a Mageia and you have shown strength as such, but a craftsman needs tools — Khan looked at Íthil, awaiting his response.

— That's why I've returned, old Khan. I have some plans, but nothing concrete — Íthil looked pale and trembling at old Khan; the three young ones were no less scared than him.

Khan contemplated Íthil, turned to look at a bookshelf, and took a scroll. He turned back to Íthil and handed it to him. — This Leur is from the Merak Moon, it contains incongruous meanings for me, but perhaps it will help you. Ah, and you'll need a companion! Go to the south side of the Lunar Lake, it's Quelonta season —.

— What does the Leur do? — Íthil asked, unrolling the parchment.

— You'll have to discover that yourself, Mr. Íthil. I don't doubt you can unravel the mystery — Khan cleaned up the place that had been left in a mess by the recent incident. The three boys watched fearfully.

— And you, clean everything, I need that ink for tomorrow's class — Khan told the three boys.

— Yes, Master Khan! — The three boys, at that very moment, had found a new respect for the old master they continuously bothered. Later on, those three young men would become exemplary students with Khan's help, but that is another story.