Cursing, I thought of what I could do next. As my train of thought spiraled, a knock at the door pulled me out of it.

“Come in,” Morsen announced.

The door creaked open, and a young man, resembling Morsen himself, stepped into the study. He carried with him a few ornate crystal glasses and a large glass bottle filled with amber liquid.

He had dark brown hair with matching eyes. His hair was cut short atop his head. His face was square, with a sharp jaw line and high cheekbones. He smiled at Morsen and me, showing almost perfectly straight teeth. He dressed casually, a light blue tunic buttoned down the middle with light grey pants.

The man looked vaguely familiar, like we had met before in some distant memory. 

“Korvack, this is Martel, my son. He’s a few years older than you, but I’m sure you know that.”

I glanced from Martel to Morsen, the confusion obvious on my face.

“Damn, you really don’t remember me, Korvack? You spent hours bullying me with magic in that god forsaken tower.”

Memories flooded in as I finally remembered a strange pair of people coming to the tower.

So the kid, a few years older than me, whom Mirrus made me keep company, was the crown prince?

I stood and extended a hand toward Martel, “It’s nice to see you again.”

He placed the items he was carrying down onto the desk and took my outstretched hand.

“And I wouldn’t say I bullied you with magic, I was merely showing you the wondrous things it was capable of,” I said with a smile.

“Yeah, sure, dousing me in water and shunting me through space on weird teleportation runes was so calming for a boy my age,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“To each their own, I suppose,” I said, my smile growing larger.

Martel circled the desk and sat down in the chair behind it, getting comfortable as he did.

Morsen regarded him with a raised eyebrow. “Getting awfully relaxed over there, aren’t we?”

Martel chuckled lightly, “Just getting used to where I’m going to spend most of my time when you kick the bucket, old man.”

Morsen laughed at his son before motioning to the drink he had brought in.

Martel reached across the desk and began pouring out alcohol into the crystal glasses. He handed one to his father, then to me, before leaning back in the chair behind the desk. He seemed to contemplate kicking his feet up onto the desk before deciding against it.

Morsen took a healthy sip from his glass and let out a breath. “It sure would be nice to have some ice with this, though.”

He looked toward me as I stared into the glass. Meeting his gaze, I rolled my eyes and set my liquor down onto the table next to Morsen’s crown.

I concentrated on the top of Morsen’s cup and pressed my hands together, turning them slightly, as if I were crushing a bug between my palms.

Mana concentrated above Morsen’s liquor and formed into three solid ice cubes that fell into his drink.

Morsen looked at the ice longingly; this was probably something he had my master do countless times. I could almost see the memories running through his head while he spun the ice around in his drink.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Martel swirling his drink around in this glass, an expectant look on his face toward me.

I made some more ice cubes that fell into my drink before picking it up. I turned to face Martel and focused on the liquid within his cup. I collapsed my open hand into a fist, and his drink froze over.

Morsen’s mood seemed to lift as I messed with Martel, watching him tip over his glass, the chunk of alcoholic ice stuck within it.

The three of us fell into conversation about life at the tower and within the capital. We reminisced briefly about Morsen and Martel’s visits to the tower, causing more and more memories to come surging above the surface in my mind.

After Morsen and I had finished our drinks, and Martel’s had finally turned into a somewhat drinkable slush, Morsen led me out of the study and through the palace.

He stopped here and there to explain portraits and statues throughout the palace’s many halls.

Eventually, we stepped outside into a garden of flowers with a circular patch of green grass in the middle. In the center of the grass was a design scorched deep into the dirt below.

“The rune,” I said aloud, to no one in particular.

“Yes. He inscribed it into the grass, gave me one last look, and then vanished.”

I walked along the cut grass and knelt in front of the rune. All of the mana had dissipated from the rune itself, leaving the scar in the grass only telling us that it had existed.

I traced my finger along the burnt sections of grass that loosely outlined the rune itself. Many of the runic inscriptions dedicated to deciding where the teleportation brought its user were beyond recognition. 

The only piece that could give me any hint at all was the notation for distance. The unit was there, but the specific amount was unrecognizable. However, from this little hint, I could tell that my master went far, very, very far.

I continued to examine the rune for any other clues I could decipher before a surge of mana from the depths of the palace exploded up through the soles of my feet. I shot up out of my knees and looked around for any explosion or mana catastrophe. I couldn’t see any smoke, and I didn’t feel any rumbling.

I quickly jogged over to the railing that peered down onto the ground of the palace and the city below it, but there was nothing out of the ordinary at all.

I turned around to see Morsen looking at me with worry and confusion plastered over his face.

“What’s wrong? Did you find anything out about where Mirrus might have gone?”

Sighing, I shook my head, “No, I didn’t. I did, however, feel an incredible surge of mana from the depths of the palace. It felt like an explosion or an attack of some kind.”

Morsen let out a laugh. “The only things in the bowels of the palace are the cells and my private storage.”

I smiled uncertainly, “You didn’t happen to imprison a mighty magician anytime recently, did you?”

Morsen smiled back, “That I did not.”

“Then it must have come from the storage. After I fix whatever needs fixing here, would you allow me to look through it?”

Morsen let out a sigh. “Korvack, Mirrus and I may have been close, and you may be Mirrus’ apprentice, but I don’t think we’re at the point in our relationship where I’d let you into the most valuable area in the palace.”

I bowed my head lightly, “Of course, Morsen.”

“Now, let’s get you fixing all the broken things in this palace.”

Morsen strode off back into the palace, with me following close behind.

Many of the things Morsen needed fixed did not require me to use any of the tools I had brought, except for the brush. Clearing dirt out of lines in runes was commonplace to keep the runes functioning, and I had to let Morsen know that his servants could do this without the need to fetch me.

As I adjusted the mana within some of the runes that needed a further check besides the general cleaning, I started to notice something.

Many of these runes were created by my master, but many of the mistakes within the runes weren’t necessarily something that would normally occur. Typically, as mana is trapped within runes, giving it a specific purpose, it will decay and need to be replaced. But these runes seemed to have a function built into them that required a magician to simply connect mentally to the rune.

After the magician had connected to the rune, they were required to wait roughly thirty seconds before leaving the mental realm of the rune. After the magician disconnected, it would function normally for approximately another five years.

As I exited the third rune that had this programmed into it, I realized that my master probably encoded this into the runes so that he wouldn’t be out of a job, especially with the runes that used atmospheric mana to power them, which inherently made the process of changing out decayed mana unnecessary.

I let out a light groan as I realized my master was perhaps the greatest con man ever, and continued to follow Morsen as he led me through the rest of the palace.

Eventually, after about an hour of ‘fixing’ runes, Morsen led me to the last one. It was a teleportation rune located behind the throne. It was fueled by atmospheric mana, meaning anyone could use it if they could picture the location the rune connected to.

It was a failsafe for Morsen, something he could use to run away from any imposing danger if he found himself caught off guard within his palace. Since atmospheric mana fueled it but didn’t draw it in quickly, it could only be used once a week at best.

This rune was actually broken, and as I entered the mental realm, I could tell immediately that the threads of mana encoded to pull in atmospheric mana had decayed. I changed out the mana within the rune and exited the realm.

As I stood up, Morsen clapped a hand on my back. “Well, that’s all I need you for. I’ve got a few meetings to attend to now. I’m sure you can let yourself out, yes?”

“Yes, I should be able to find the way back. Thank you for everything, Morsen. Call on me again if you need it.”

Morsen shook my hand before leaving the throne room. I followed behind him out of the large double doors, and he quickly began speaking to the guards outside before turning down a hallway and giving me a small wave.

I started my long walk back through the palace with my thoughts racing. I knew my master had to have kept some log of the preexisting teleportation runes that he had placed throughout the continent, but I had no idea where that information might be.

If I could find that list, I could rule out a bunch of places that Mirrus could have teleported to. Even with the minimal information I had, any information at all about teleportation runes that he had created would be absurdly helpful.

Walking through winding hallways and corridors, I was suddenly painfully aware of how lost I had ended up.

Looking around for any indication of where I might have ended up also didn’t help. All the statues, portraits, and ornate objects on pedestals blended into a mixed mess within my head.

I decided to start down a hallway to my right from the cross-section I had stopped at. Before I could get a few steps down the hallway, a light voice called out behind me.

“You’re going the wrong way.”

I spun on my heel and came face-to-face with a woman in a full-length white dress. The dress was covered with lace designs of flowers that separated slightly from the white underneath. Sleeves made of a similar pattern ran down her tan arms. The dress ended in frills around her ankles.

A dark fur coat was draped over her shoulders, matching her dark brown hair, which fell to her shoulders. Unlike her brother and father, her face was rounder, but her strong jawline, high cheekbones, and perfect teeth remained consistent.

Her dark brown eyes bore into mine as I faltered on something to say from her sudden appearance, let alone her stunning features.

“You must be Martha,” I said after too long a pause.

“I am. And you’re Korvack, Mirrus’ apprentice?”

“Yes, I am.”

An awkward silence fell between the two of us. Martha’s eyes searched me up and down. She seemed to be thinking about the best way to handle me without becoming too invested.

I decided to speak first. “If I’m headed the wrong way, would you mind showing me the way? Or perhaps just pointing me in the right direction?”

The tug of a smile appeared on the corners of her lips before she spoke.

“I’ve got something better in mind.”

Stunned, I continued to look at her, unsure of where the conversation was headed.

“Let’s make a deal, Korvack.”

“What sort of deal?”

“I overheard you asking my father if you could see the storage. I can sneak you in there. The guards will let me in if I ask, you’ll just have to sneak by them when I get them to open the door.”

I was shocked. I had pushed the rush of mana out of my mind, but now with this sudden offer, it came speeding to the forefront of my thoughts.

My brows lowered as I looked at her; she was about as tall as Morsen.

“What would you need from me?”

Martha contemplated for a second, weighing her options of what she might be able to get from me. It was evident that she was deciding how much I truly valued getting into the storage by her pensive look.

“How about you teach me magic?”

I shook my head, “Sorry, Martha. I don’t think you have the bodily constitution to control mana. I’m not sure how Mirrus could, and I have absolutely no idea how I can.”

“So the ability to control mana is something you’re born with?”

I nodded.

Martha crossed her arms, obviously annoyed at my response.

“Well then, how about the next time you visit the palace, you create a few runes of my choosing within my room or wherever I want them.” She paused before continuing.

“And you try to teach me magic regardless of this bodily constitution issue.”

I thought for a second, deciding whether or not to see the storage and find the cause of the surge of mana was worth being called into the palace more frequently to try and, likely fruitlessly, teach the princess magic.

I sighed lightly before meeting Martha’s gaze again.

“Fine, but I’ll decide when you get lessons. You can’t just be summoning me to the palace whenever you want.”

“It’s a deal then,” she responded, flashing me a bright smile.

I stood for a second as she turned down the adjacent hallway from me, watching her walk away.

“Well?” she glanced over her shoulder, “No time to waste! Let’s go to the storage.”